Racing With Destiny
by Lisette
Summary: Complete - BtVSxHP - As a shattered slayer begins to fade away it's up to those who love her most to give her a new purpose in life - and a new evil to fight.
1. Chapter 1

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 1  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** The television series, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all things _Harry Potter_ belong to a lot of important people. I am not one of these important people. I claim ownership solely of the story idea, and no profit will be made by this.

**Author's Note:** This is a sequel to Twist of Fate and is set three months later, and during the 7th year of the HP verse. Consider everything post Book 4 to be AU.

**Brief Description:** BtVS/HP Crossover - As a shattered slayer begins to fade away it's up to those who love her most to give her a new purpose in life - and a new evil to fight.

**Rating:** R for Content

* * *

**Racing With Destiny**

**"Life without meaning cannot be borne. We find a mission to which we're sworn -  
Or answer the call of Death's dark horn. Without a gleaning of purpose in life,  
We have no vision, we live in strife - or let blood fall on a suicide knife."**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

The harsh ringing of the telephone echoed in the empty apartment, erasing all traces of sleep from the man's mind. Stirring, he turned on the lamp beside his bed, green eyes darting around the loft, eyes taking in nothing as he blearily reached for his glasses before his other hand finally found the telephone. "Hello?" he asked around a wide yawn.

"Rupert, old chap!"

"Samuel?" Giles asked, his friend's greeting driving his lingering sleep even further away as he slowly pushed back his covers and climbed to his feet, moving silently to the stairs that would lead down to his open living room below, his eyes tracing over the empty couch. Buffy was still out, it seemed. Sighing softly, he slowly settled on one stair, his hand wearily massaging his forehead. "Do you realize what time it is here?"

"Late, I'd imagine," his friend agreed, his voice soft. "But I had to be sure that I could reach you. I wanted to know how you've been."

"Not well, actually," Giles answered truthfully as his eyes skipped once more to the empty couch.

"Is it something with the Hellmouth?"

"No, no... nothing like that," Giles demurred, his hand slowly gripping the banister and pulling him to his feet. "No, it's... it's Buffy," he finally acknowledged as he began making his way to the kitchen.

"Is she alright?" his friend quickly replied, his tone sharing in his worry. "She has fully recovered, has she not?"

"Physically, yes," Giles murmured, smiling softly. "All of hair has even grown back, much to her amazement," he added. "You'd never know that anything had happened to her by looking at her..."

_Sighing softly, Buffy slowly moved to Giles' bathroom, her steps hesitant. It had been a week since she had been allowed to leave the hospital, and Jarod had promised her that the bandages could finally come off then. The thought scared her - the thought of her bald head scared her even worse than the potential scars. Closing the door firmly behind her, she slowly met green eyes in the mirror and began to unwind the bandages, thick locks of golden blonde hair tumbling free, haloing her face._

_"The Watcher guy wasn't kidding when he said that the icky potion stuff would make the hair come back faster," she murmured, tentatively lifting a hand to touch her head. Even the scars from the operation were gone. Sighing, she forced her green eyes to take in the reflection that faced her - one that was a mirror image to her reflection before any of this had happened... before her mother had been killed, before she had been taken, before she had been tortured, before she had killed a man... She looked the same. Only her eyes betrayed all that had happened. She could see it in her green eyes. They no longer sparkled. No longer shined. Ever since being called as the Slayer, her eyes had always contained far more wisdom and sadness then anyone her age should know. Now, the eyes that looked back at her were the eyes of an old woman. An old woman who had led a hard, painful life and was now merely waiting for the end to come. It was wrong for those eyes to sit in such a young, beautiful face. Wrong that her body showed no scars._

_As tears burned at those aged green eyes, Buffy felt a sob choke her. Before she could stop herself her fist flew from her side and buried itself in the mirror before her, shattering the glass and slicing her knuckles. Sobbing, tears streaming down her face from the fragmented eyes that stared back at her, Buffy slowly lowered herself to the cold, tiled floor, ignorant to the pounding on the door beside her. Ignorant of everything._

"However, emotionally," Giles murmured, his tone wavering. "Not at all," he finished as he set to work making himself a glass of tea, more from habit than anything else. He certainly didn't need the caffeine to keep him awake. The topic of conversation was more than enough to provide many, many sleepless nights. "If anything, she seems to be getting worse and to be honest, I'm at a loss as to what to do."

"Were you able to reach her father?"

Snorting at the idea, Giles quickly shook his head before he realized that his friend wouldn't be able to see the movement. "No, the bastard's office keeps saying that he's unavailable in Spain - unavailable to his own daughter!"

"Where has she been staying?"

"With me, of course," Giles replied, eyes skipping once more to his empty couch. Not that she really stayed on the couch through the whole night, at least at first. Although they never talked about it, Giles knew that sometime during the night Buffy would abandon the couch and creep upstairs, curling up beside him only to leave again before dawn would break. This unwillingness to be alone in the dark hours of the night, more than anything, spoke to him of the danger his Slayer was in. Lately, though, even these efforts to reach out had diminished, the girl disappearing more times than not, returning only when dawn would break. "But she's not the same girl she once was," Giles continued with a soft sigh, "more of a shell of her former self than anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Buffy..." Giles began, trying to best decide how to put his feelings into words, how best to describe the girl that was more of a daughter to him than he could ever imagine. "Ever since she was called," he began, trying a different track, "and learned of the fate of the past Slayers, she has lived her life with the knowledge that she will never grow old," he explained as he picked up his fresh cup of tea and headed towards the living room. "She has lived each day to the fullest and has taken more joy from her life than most anyone that I have ever known. She cherishes life, and her friends give her the drive to keep fighting. But now," he murmured, his eyes growing dim. "Now she lives each day not as a blessing and another step towards life and defying fate, but as a curse... as though it's another step towards death and her finish," he murmured as he slowly eased his long frame onto the couch. "I... I don't know if it happened all at once at the instant that that man shot Joyce before Buffy's eyes," he continued, his voice hollow, "or if it was beaten out of her a little each day during the months of her imprisonment, but I do know that her fire is going out. Is out," he murmured, correcting himself as he placed his tea, forgotten, on the end table before him. "And what scares me most is that I don't know if she'll ever regain what she lost."

For a moment, a thick silence fell between the two men before Samuel cleared his throat. "What _did_ happen to her while she was in their hands? Has she talked about it yet?"

"No, not to anyone," Giles murmured, knowing the truth of his words in the way her friends still looked at her - as if they didn't know how to treat her. How to approach her any longer. "Although I know that she dreams about it every night... if you can call it dreaming," he muttered, his tone dark. "Her screams wake us both," he added, the memory of his slayer's cries, so terrifying to hear, haunting his every thought. "And many times," he added, "the smallest and most ordinary thing can set her off. I mean, I can understand her aversion to needles..."

_"Get the first aid kit, quick!" Buffy called out as she helped Faith into the room, the dark haired girl leaning heavily on the smaller blond._

_"Good Lord, what happened?" Giles demanded as he hurried into the room, the large kit in hand. While Buffy appeared unharmed, Faith's shirt was soaked in blood, the fluid running down one arm._

_"Hey, no big," Faith croaked as she settled heavily onto the chair provided, Buffy kneeling lightly beside her. "The other guy's just dust floating in the wind, right B?" she panted as Giles quickly began searching through the kit, looking for the roll of gauze and tossing the other supplies to the side._

_Muttering to himself, he quickly grabbed a syringe and was about to put it to the side when he was knocked back and pinned to the wall behind him. Gasping, Giles' wide eyes locked on Buffy's green, her gaze glazed and ferocious. "Buffy," he croaked, eyeing the large knife that she held in one hand, bringing it back to strike._

_"Not again," she murmured, obviously somewhere else. And then she was being pulled back, Faith wrestling her to the ground and finally knocking the knife from her hands. Suddenly, it was as though all of the fight went out of her as she just lay beneath Faith, unmoving and eyes closed tightly._

"But cold water?..."

_"Giles!"_

_Startled, Giles dropped the cup of tea he had been holding, the mug shattering on the kitchen floor as he sped through the apartment and out the open front door, through the courtyard and to the street beyond. "Oh God," he muttered, freezing at the sight that greeted him. From the looks of it, Xander, Willow, and Buffy had been helping Oz to wash his van. After all, it was a beautiful, warm spring day in southern California. It had seemed like a nice, ordinary and fun idea for the teens. But apparently something had gone wrong. "What happened?" he demanded as he crossed to his slayer in a few quick strides, dropping to his knees before her._

_"We.. we were just playing around," Xander explained in a choked voice, "and when I turned the hose on her she just kind of collapsed like this."_

_Confused, Giles' eyes drifted over Buffy's small form, curled into a little ball on the muddy ground, arms wrapped protectively over her head and words slipping from her lips, over and over again. Tentatively, he bent forward, waiting as her words washed over him._

_"Please, no," she murmured, her voice choked and pained, "no more, please no more, please no more, please no more..."_

Sighing, Giles slowly shook his head. "Although," he added, his tone thoughtful, "I think that Faith knows, at least a little more than the rest of us, what Buffy went through. The way that she looks at Buffy now, the way she acts towards her... it's as if she understands firsthand how broken Buffy has become."

"And how is Faith?"

"Good," Giles murmured, somewhat distracted before he quickly revaluated his earlier estimate. "No, wonderful even."

"Really?" Samuel asked, his doubts carrying through the connection. "Then there haven't been any... regressions?"

"None," Giles answered firmly. "It's as though Faith is a new person," he assessed before a small frown pulled at his features. "Well no, that's not quite right. It's still Faith, without a doubt," he murmured, thinking back to her fiery personality with a small smile. "But she's a different girl than the one we knew last."

"Do you think it's because of the coma?"

"No... no, I think it's because of the time that Buffy and she shared in her body - because of the chance that we're all giving her," he murmured, one hand lifting to distractedly brush through his graying hair. "In a way, it was always hard for Faith because she was second best in our eyes," Giles explained. "Everything was always about Buffy and Faith was just the back up. Buffy was the golden girl, the hero and the slayer, while Faith was just Faith. But now..." Giles murmured, his voice dying away in a sigh. "Well, Buffy is so broken that everyone has started looking to Faith to solve the problems that the Hellmouth throws our way. Everyone understands that Buffy just isn't capable, almost as if she doesn't care any longer. And so Faith has, for perhaps the first time, taken on the true role of the slayer. The responsibility is giving her confidence and leading her along the right path."

_"This time, I'm not the one that's messed up," Faith murmured, a frown pulling at her lips before she slowly turned and locked eyes with the aging Watcher. "I'm not standing in Buffy's shadow anymore... and you know what? If it meant getting our Buffy back, I'd go back to being her sidekick all over again."_

"And the Hellmouth?"

"Back to normal," Giles replied, shrugging slightly. "Or at least as normal as the Hellmouth can be," he amended with a small smile. "Once Buffy and Faith made their presence well known, many of the demons fled," he continued, unable to contain the note of pride that crept into his voice. "Since then, it has only taken three months for the two slayers to undo the damage that being without a chosen one had taken six months for the town to get to."

"So the Hellmouth has been keeping both Slayers busy."

At his words, a small grimace contorted Giles' features. It was as though his friend could read his mind and see all of the dark doubts that lay there. "No, there's not enough work here for two slayers, not really," he replied, "and Buffy knows this." Sighing, he slowly shook his head. "In the last few weeks she has become even more despondent and withdrawn, patrolling less because she knows that she is not needed."

"Has Faith picked up the slack?"

"Gladly, but without a cause Buffy is beginning to drift away from us all, and I don't know if there's anything we can do about it," Giles sighed as he reached forward and lifted his cup of tea to his lips, grimacing as he realized that it had gotten cold. Shaking his head, he stood and moved back towards the kitchen, cup in hand. "There have been many nights where we have found Buffy sitting alone in the plot where her house once stood," he admitted with a soft frown, his gaze drifting to the clock above the fridge. 4:30am. He was betting that Faith had turned in for the night long ago and that once again, his Slayer wandered the night alone. "She doesn't talk about what she thinks of there," he continued softly, "whether it be her mother or the man that she killed, but whatever it is I think it's slowly destroying her," he admitted as he began the familiar task of making more tea. "I know that she's trying, but she's getting worse, not better with time. The memories that this town contains are killing her day by day."

As the tea was set to boil once again, yet another heavy silence fell over the line. "I had feared as much," Samuel finally admitted, his tone indicating that he had been waiting for this admission all along. That he had been expecting it, even. "Perhaps... perhaps it's time for your Slayer to leave the Hellmouth for a time - to get away for awhile."

Instantly suspicious, Giles felt his grip tighten on the phone. "Where to?" he asked, his voice tight.

"England."

Furious now, Giles quickly turned away, his hand hurting from how tightly he was gripping the receiver. "I will not allow Buffy to be ensconced in the council, no matter how much they've changed," he hissed, his free hand reaching out to massage his forehead. But then, just as quickly as the anger came it was already melting away as thoughts of the Buffy that remained filled his thoughts. She was so broken... "Besides," he murmured, sagging back against the counter, "sometimes I think that the fight is the only thing that keeps her going any longer."

"But Rupe," Samuel began, his voice soft, "you said so yourself that two slayers aren't needed on the Hellmouth. Besides, from the sounds of it, it would only be worse for Faith and Buffy in the end for them both to remain there. Faith needs to be away from her counterpart, allowing her to stand in the spotlight for awhile. And Buffy... it sounds like Buffy needs to go someplace away from the memories of her mother and all that has happened there. Admit it Rupe, for you've been saying practically the same thing for the past hour." At Giles' heavy sigh, Samuel hesitantly continued. "Besides, I wasn't talking about the Council."

Unable to believe that he hadn't hung up yet, Giles slowly straightened. "I'm listening."

"I'll be the first to admit that the Watcher's Council never does anything without a reason - that they never have a double purpose behind every move. Likewise, my desire to bring Buffy to England isn't solely for her benefit - the slayer is needed there."

Curious despite himself, Giles slowly nodded. "Go on," he murmured.

Knowing that he now had his old friend hooked, Samuel changed tracks. "Rupe, how long have you been away from our world?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 2  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Living in the modern age, death for virtue is the wage.  
So it seems in darker hours. Evil wins, kindness cowers.  
Ruled by violence and vice we all stand upon thin ice.  
Are we brave or are we mice, here upon such thin, thin ice?  
Dare we linger, dare we skate? Dare we laugh or celebrate,  
Knowing we may strain the ice? Preserve the ice at any price?"**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

"So what's with the all-important meeting?" Faith asked, sauntering into the room as though she owned it, pausing long enough to take in the stranger who stood quietly off to the side. "And who's the suit?" she added as she dropped onto the couch, playfully shoving Xander over to make room as Willow tumbled from her position beside him and to the wood floor.

"God, what have you been eating?" Xander asked, as he scooted over slightly to make more room for the dark-haired slayer, Willow sending them both pointed glares as she dusted off her clothing before once more settling on the couch, wishing now more than ever that Oz was back and beside her instead of out of town.

"Only the good stuff for this girl," she chirped, a large grin spreading her painted lips as her dark eyes skipped over the rest of the room. Giles' call had stated that the meeting was urgent, so like a good little Slayer, she had come a runnin', even though it was ungodly early, only nine in the morning - only to find the rest of the Scoobies already gathered... well, all of the Scoobies but one. "Hey, where's B?" she asked, unable to mask her concern as Giles joined them from the kitchen, a glass of tea in one hand.

"She wasn't with you?" he returned, a frown pulling at his lips as he was reminded of the fact that his Slayer never came home last night.

"If she was, do you think I would have asked?" Faith retorted, arms crossing over her chest, eyes narrowing. "She begged off of patrol and I haven't seen her since. That was around mid-" she broke off as the door opened one more time, admitting the final Scooby into their midst. "Speak of the Devil," she said, her smile warm as Buffy paused in the doorway, large green eyes taking in the assembled group.

"Hmm, this can't be good," the blonde slayer murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips as she slowly closed the door behind her, ignoring her Watcher's questioning gaze. Damn. She had intended on being back before he awoke. Then again, one look at the clock confirmed that time had, once again, gotten away from her. "I thought it was too good to be true," she continued, attempting to draw the attention away from herself and her obviously rumpled appearance. "Which is it this time? Prophecy or apocalypse?" she asked, moving forward until she folded her petite form into an open chair. "Or prophecy foretelling an apocalypse?"

"Uh, neither, actually," Giles murmured, his eyes darting over to lock with Samuel's.

Catching the movement, Buffy turned slightly, her eyes narrowing on the familiar face. "Mr. Fellows," she acknowledged warily, a frown pulling at her lips.

"Mr. Who?" Faith retorted, eyes once more skipping back to the stranger.

"Mr. Samuel Fellows," Samuel quickly stated, striding forward and extending a hand to the brunette, a hand that was dutifully ignored. "We, uh, didn't get a chance to be introduced last I was in town," he finished as he nodded at the girl before backing away.

"New Big Cheese at the Council," Xander added in a mock-whisper, leaning conspiratorially towards the slayer.

Rolling her eyes, Faith's attention snapped back to the aging watcher. "Well, if there's not a new Big Bad on the horizon, what's the what with the urgency? 'Cause some of us have were up late working last night."

Sighing softly, Giles set his tea on the counter behind him as he slowly took off his glasses and began to absently polish them on the hem of his shirt. Ignoring the snickers that this gesture brought him, he turned his thoughts over in his mind, seeing them from every angle before deciding on a course to follow. "There... there are are some things that you should know about our world, things about myself that I've never shared," he said, his gaze drifting until it locked with Buffy's eyes - eyes that contained the barest hint of curiosity - a good sign. Anything was better than the apathy she had been displaying of late.

"If it has anything to do with strange British customs like the full monty, then no need to share," Xander interrupted, only to be silenced by a sharp elbow from his redheaded best friend.

Ignoring Xander, Giles tore his eyes away from his Slayer. "Three months ago Mr. Magnus Fletcher used a magical wand to help Buffy return to her body," he began, seeing that he now had everyone's full attention. Fletcher, and his subsequent murder, was just one of those things that the group never talked about. It was as if they didn't talk about it, it would somehow lessen the fact that an innocent man had died - someone who just happened to get in the way. "I speak of him," Giles continued, "because in the eyes of those like Mr. Fletcher, the world is divided into two types of people: those with magic, or witches and wizards, and those without, those called muggles."

"Muggles?" Willow murmured, her nose scrunching as she tried out the unfamiliar word.

"Yes," Giles nodded, returning his glasses to their usual perch. "You see, magic is everywhere, and magic users have established several wizarding communities, hidden from the rest of the world. Some wizarding families, purebloods, can trace their line back for centuries to the oldest and most well known of wizards, like Merlin himself. Others are born into muggle families, like myself."

"Whoa, hold up!" Faith protested, shaking her head slowly. "Merlin as in the round table Merlin? And you're a wizard, G, and you never told us?"

Ignoring her question for now, Giles' gaze drifted to Buffy, so silent in her chair. "I was born to a muggle family," he explained, his voice soft as he thought back on those times, so many years ago."And when I turned twelve I was invited to attend Hogwarts, the premiere wizarding school in all of England - the world, some say."

"There are _schools_ for wizards and witches?!" Willow squeaked, her eyes growing wide.

Ignoring her question as well, Giles pushed on. "My father was opposed to the idea... very opposed," he murmured, thinking back to his father's blinding anger, his obsession with him following in his footsteps to the Council. "My mother, however, was able to convince him that such skills could only help me later in life as a Watcher."

"So the Council knows about this stuff?" Faith asked, her gaze ticking to the head of the Council, having moved back to the shadows once again.

Smiling wryly, Giles slowly nodded his head. "I can guarantee you that there is _nothing_ in this world that the Watcher's Council is unaware of."

"In fact," Samuel added, sending an apologetic glance to his friend for the interruption, "many Watchers come from the wizarding world - Giles and I were in the same graduating class at Hogwarts, the class of '71. For many muggle-born wizards, joining the Watcher's Council is the best way to blend the muggle and wizarding world."

"Would that be 1871?" Xander quipped, earning him a slap upside the head from the dark-haired slayer beside him as well as a light punch from Willow.

"Yes, well," Giles murmured, his thoughts drifting back to his tale. "My time at Hogwarts opened my eyes to a whole new world - one that I became quite taken with. As I've told you all before, I didn't want to be a Watcher. The part I didn't mention was that I really wanted to stay in the wizarding world, perhaps to be an auror or to enter the Ministry of Magic," he murmured, oblivious to the group's confusion as he met the understanding eyes of his old friend. "So after graduation, Ethan and I and some other wizard friends, in an act of rebellion, began experimenting in the dark arts, playing with forces that we never should have touched-"

"-summoning Eyghon," Buffy surmised, her green eyes meeting his as she finally joined the conversation, her hand unconsciously drifting to the back of her neck.

"Yes," Giles murmured, his shame at the role he played in so much tragedy obviously still weighing heavily upon his aging shoulders. "And as a result my wand was broken and I was expelled from that world... and right into the arms of the Watcher's Council," he added, his eyes drifting to his old friend. "Since then I've lost contact with that world," he continued, his tone soft, "and as Mr. Fellows has informed me, much has changed since then."

"And not for the better, I'm afraid," Samuel added, stepping forward as he recognized his cue to continue with the story. "Our world is at war," he explained, eyes skipping around to the young people that filled this room - the young people that had so much courage and strength and that had saved this sorry world from damnation time and time again. "A war unlike anything that we've faced before," he added, his frown deepening. "You see, not all wizards and witches are good," he explained, "just as not all muggles and demons are good," he added, intending to make references to the escapades of Angel versus Angelus. But at the way the petite blonde slayer seemed to withdraw into herself at his words he knew that she thought not of those dark times, but of even more recent and even darker times when a few cruel muggles had taught her first hand how humans could be so much more cruel, so much more evil than any demon she had faced. Sighing, he sent his old friend an apologetic shrug before nodding. "In our world, a dark wizard has risen into power, a man so feared than many of my kind are unable to even say his name-"

"Which is?" Xander interrupted, his brows arching into his messy hairline.

"Lord Voldemort," Samuel replied, unable to stop the shudder that swept through his limbs at the mention of that simple name. "This wizard was born to muggles and yet his hate lies against all muggles and those muggle-born. He believes that wizards are superior to those without magic and that we should take our place as rulers over this world, ruling over those he considers inferior to us. He and his followers, a group of dark wizards that call themselves Death Eaters, cast our world into darkness for many years. Then, on Halloween over sixteen years ago, You-Know-Who-"

"Who do we know?" Xander interrupted once again, his confusion evident.

"-was stopped when his killing curse was rebounded upon him by a toddler," Samuel finished with an exasperated look at the lanky teen.

"So he's dead then," Willow added, her face crinkling in confusion, "killed by a kid when we were only kids."

"Not quite," Samuel continued, a frown pulling at his lips. "For years after the wizarding world lived in peace, believing that the threat was over when in fact, You-Know-Who was really regaining his strength. He made his first reappearance almost seven years ago when his weakened spirit took refuge in one of his followers at Hogwarts-"

"The crazy school you attended?" Faith interrupted, shooting Giles a questioning glance.

"Yes, Faith," Giles returned, trying to hide a smirk behind one hand. The group's short attention span was obviously something that his old friend was quite unaccustomed to, as demonstrated by his thinning patience. "And the school where it seems the boy who defeated him is currently attending in his seventh and final year."

"Thanks to him and his friends," Samuel continued, shooting an irritated glare at the group, "his attempt to regain a body was thwarted. But since then You-Know-Who has become more and more of a threat, especially since he was resurrected to full body and strength three years ago, using the blood of that boy."

Startled by this revelation, Giles nearly dropped the cup he had been holding. His old friend hadn't mentioned this fact when they had talked earlier that morning. "Then he's-"

"No," Samuel stated, understanding his friend's question before it was even asked. "No, that child has more lives in him then even you, Rupert," he murmured, risking a small smile before it faltered under the grim news that he was forced to deliver. "All-out war has been declared in our world, the Light, as it would seem, against the Darkness led by You-Know-Who," Samuel continued, a frown pulling at his lips. "Unfortunately, there are many Death Eaters and not nearly enough of us fighting against them. In fact, many from our world have refused to take a side, unwilling to endanger their families by openly supporting either, and are instead merely waiting it out to see who will emerge victorious in the end-"

"We get a lot of that around here in Sunnydale," Willow commiserated.

"Hogwarts," he continued, "has always been a stronghold against You-Know-Who, its Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, being the only wizard that he has ever feared. However, by having both Dumbledore and the boy who defeated him at the school, everyone in our world knew that the school had quickly become one of You-Know-Who's main targets. Thus, when the war became public knowledge this past October, Dumbledore officially closed its doors, the majority of its students returning to their families in hopes of finding safety there. Since then, it has become a refuge for the most targeted families of You-Know-Who - those who are outright supporters of Dumbledore and against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters."

At the silence that fell over the group, Faith felt herself shifting uncomfortably on the couch. She was used to action and all this talk just wasn't cutting it for the Slayer. "Okay," she said, giving in to her impatience, "so where do we come in?"

"You don't," Giles said softly, catching her eyes briefly before turning to face his first slayer. "Buffy does," he finished, watching as Buffy finally seemed to push away her thoughts, a small frown pulling at her lips.

"We're in a war," Samuel explained, stepping forward and then kneeling until he was at the same level as the diminutive Slayer, "that could use any help that our side could get - especially the help of a Slayer," he added, not noticing the way the blonde blanched at the word.

"Wait, wait, wait," Xander protested, pushing off of the couch and moving until he was standing over Buffy, one hand resting protectively on her shoulder. "Buffy can't go! We need her here on the Hellmouth!" he argued, his dark eyes flashing.

"The Hellmouth already has a Slayer," Samuel countered as his eyes drifted over to the dark-haired slayer who watched the proceedings with narrowed eyes.

Stunned by his words, Willow felt the beginnings of panic threaten to consume her as she jumped from the couch. She quickly looked to Giles, waiting for him to argue with the man and tell them just how much they needed Buffy. How they couldn't take her best friend away to the other side of the world - not when they had only just gotten her back a few months before. But at the resigned look on Giles' face, she knew that she'd get no support there. Horrified at this realization, she turned to Faith, seeing that she, too, seemed resigned to the idea already, content to sit back and watch the proceedings. Shaking her head, it became apparent that only she and Xander were going to fight for their friend. And by the way that Xander's eyes narrowed even more, she realized that he knew that as well.

"Okay," she murmured, her mind trying to grasp a logical argument - any argument to see reason and to forget this stupid idea. "Well, here's a thought," she said quickly, green eyes lifting to stare defiantly at the man who wanted to take her friend away. "While yeah, I've only dabbled in the whole magic thing a little bit after Miss Calendar died," she murmured, sending an apologetic glance to Giles for the mention, "and... well, not a whole lot since everything... well, everything last summer," she babbled, her frown intensifying, "I still know enough to know that you're sending Buffy on a suicide mission! I mean, what can one of us, even if she is a slayer, do against magic like that?"

Smiling slightly at the slender girl's fierce loyalty to her friend, Samuel pondered her argument for a moment before slowly nodding his head in agreement. "There is nothing that a muggle can do against such magic," he admitted, watching as the girl flashed Xander a triumphant grin. "However," he added, his smile growing, "a Slayer isn't a muggle." As the girl's mouth dropped at his statement, Samuels attention drifted back to the girl that was the center of this fierce debate, the one that they would ultimately have to convince in the end. To her credit, her face was impassive, giving none of her thoughts away. "Instead," he continued, "she's what my kind call a magical creature. The very nature of her strength, speed, skill and healing capabilities are a source of strong magic, so different from a wizard's magic."

Stunned, Xander slowly withdrew his hand as he cast a curious gaze at the girl that sat below him, and then over at the brunette that watched everything through heavily shadowed eyes. "So Buffy and Faith can be all witchy and cast spells and stuff?" he asked, scratching his head.

"Will she get a nifty wand?" Willow asked despite herself.

Laughing, Samuel shook his head. Now he could see why his old friend was so fond of these children. Not only did they love and support the slayer, giving her the strength she needed to keep fighting and giving her a _reason_ to fight, but they also had a curiosity and humor that were compelling - even if it was damned irritating when trying to carry on a serious discussion. "No, not that kind of magic," he continued. "Slayers can't cast spells or do anything that we would consider magical. However," he added, his eyes twinkling, "their magic is so powerful and so _different_ than wizarding magic that our magic won't affect them - at least not to the extent of other wizards or muggles," he corrected, nodding at Giles. "It interferes with it."

"Oh yeah?" Willow countered, her lip jutting out as she quickly crossed her arms across her chest. "Then how come magic has worked on Buffy before? Huh?" she demanded, green eyes sparkling as she flashed her resolve face. "Buffy was turned into a frightened damsel in distress on Halloween a few years back-"

"What?" Faith interrupted, shooting Buffy an amused grin. "_So_ need to hear _that_ story!"

"-and then," Willow continued, "you guys did that whole spell thing to put Buffy's brain back in her body! How do you explain that?"

Sighing, Giles reluctantly joined the conversation, saving Samuel from Willow's anger. "We can't," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders, "except to say that the Hellmouth has something to do with it. For some reason," he continued, "the forces on the Hellmouth strengthen spells and magic here, giving people the power to do such things that shouldn't be possible anywhere else, especially without a wand."

"Which is why I was able to restore Angel's soul," Willow murmured, her expression falling as she read between the lines of Giles' statement. "Because I'm a muggle and I shouldn't have been able to do something like that," she added as she settled dejectedly back on the couch.

"No, Willow," Giles countered with a sympathetic smile. "You practice Wiccan magic, which is an entirely different form of magic than wizarding magic. Wizards call upon magic that is already within themselves while wiccans call upon magic from the world around them. Being on the Hellmouth, there is much more in the way of magic for you to use, which is why you're able to cast the strong spells you have. However, such magic wouldn't be possible in non-magical areas."

"Hey, you're still a wicked witch in my book," Faith said softly from beside her, her expression uncommonly soft and understanding.

"I know," Willow murmured, tears burning in her eyes. But they weren't tears for herself and her shattered ego, but rather tears for her friend. Sighing softly, she lifted her pale face and met Buffy's shadowed green eyes. They weren't the same eyes that she remembered, not at all. Everything else about Buffy was the same, right down to the clothes that she had purchased to replace the ones lost in the fire, and even the way she wore her long, blonde hair. But the eyes... the eyes were so different. Sniffling, Willow realized for the first time why Giles wasn't fighting this - why Faith wasn't. They were losing Buffy, day by day, and they all loved her too much to allow that to happen. Buffy was trying, Willow was certain of that, but she was losing focus here, caught up in too many painful memories. While running away after sending Angel to Hell hadn't been the brightest thing she had ever done, Willow had to admit that the time away had helped Buffy somehow to face what she had done. To face what she had lost. Now, she was being offered that same opportunity, and it was up to them to show her how much they loved her by letting her go.

"But this isn't our war," Xander protested weakly, his knees folding beneath him, bringing himself to the floor beside Buffy's chair. "It's not _her_war," he amended, dark eyes turning until they locked on Buffy's green eyes.

"Not yet," Buffy murmured, speaking softly as she scooted forward and gently rest one hand against his cheek. Sighing softly, she saw the pain in his dark brown eyes. He loved her so much. They all did. To think that their love would be enough to make her whole again... but it wasn't. She didn't know what she needed to do that, but whatever it was, it wasn't enough in Sunnydale any longer. Perhaps Sunnydale itself was the reason for it. How could she keep going as though nothing had happened when she saw her mother's touch everywhere she turned in this town? "But if this Voldie guy wins... Xander, you know he'll turn his eyes to the rest of us. And what if it's too late to stop him then? Besides, you know I have to go," she murmured, feeling the tears beginning to burn, begging to be released. "I can't stay here anymore. I need to... I need to get away for awhile and see if I can get my head back straight," she whispered before turning her head to meet the eyes of her Watcher. "But I can't do this alone," she whispered, her voice a strangled plea. In many way Giles was the only thing she had left when it came to a parent - and every child, no matter how old, needed their parents.

"And I would never send a Slayer on a mission without her Watcher," Samuel interrupted with a small smile. "Should you accept, Mr. Giles will be accompanying you to England."

"Hey, what about me?" Faith interrupted, speaking for perhaps the first time in quite a long time. Crossing her arms tight across her chest, she felt her eyes spark with heat.

Meeting the girl's fiery gaze head on, Samuel only smiled. "I believe that it's high time for you to have a Watcher of your own," he replied. "One that would be, perhaps, better suited to your distinct personality."

Grinning, Faith straightened and shot Buffy a triumphant grin. "I like the sound of that," she admitted before forcing a bored expression to replace her excitement.

"So I take it that you accept, then?" Samuel said, sighing slightly as he turned his eyes back to the blonde that was inadvertently a new hope for his world. It was amazing to think that this small girl could somehow help to turn the tide. Then again, Samuel Fellows had learned long ago that there was much that Dumbledore saw and knew - much more that would guarantee that he would never question one of his requests. If Dumbledore wanted a Slayer at Hogwarts, Samuel would do his damnest to see that he got his wish.

"When do we leave?" Buffy asked by way of response, slowly climbing from her chair and moving to stand beside her watcher.

"As soon as you're packed and ready," he replied, noting as more tears trickled down the redhead's cheeks.

"Well, not much to pack," Buffy returned with a wry smile, thinking on how little indeed she now owned, "but I do have to make a stop before we go. Twenty minutes?" she asked, waiting for their nod before making her way to the stairs to the loft, Willow, Xander and Faith following behind.

Soon, only the two Watchers remained, both staring at each other pensively. "Well," Samuel sighed before easing himself into a recently-vacated chair, "that went better than I had imagined. She's a brave girl."

"They all are," Giles returned, smiling wearily before casting his eyes around the room. He didn't know how long it would be until he saw his home again.

"Don't you have to pack?"

"Already done," Giles admitted before moving to the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Of course," Samuel murmured, arching an eyebrow at his friend before joining him in thekitchen. "So you knew that she would say yes, then, all along?"

Sighing softly, Giles leaned back against the fridge before meeting his friend's eyes. "Buffy has endured far worse than anyone should have to. Yet no matter what's happened to her, no matter how much it has affected her, it will always still be Buffy. There was never any other answer for her to give," he murmured absently before returning to his task, the sounds of the chattering teens drifting down from the loft above.


	3. Chapter 3

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 3  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings. In addition, some of you may recognize some quotes from The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks. His amazing words can only be claimed by him.

* * *

**"We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go,  
We take a little of each other everywhere."**  
-Tim McGraw-

"So you weren't kidding when you said you didn't have a lot to pack," Faith commented as she draped herself across Giles' bed. "Why didn't you say something? I would've hit the mall with you - got you some _real_ clothes!"

"Faith," Xander interrupted, his eyes dropping down to her scanty ensemble, "leather is hardly considered 'real' clothes in the opinions of the general populous."

Smiling wryly, Buffy tuned out her friends' mock-quarrel as she slowly moved back and forth from the closet that Giles had cleared for her to the small duffel that rested beside her friend. Things had been rough at first between the brunette and the rest of the Scoobies, memories of past betrayals still too close to the surface, but with Buffy's example and determination, all hurdles were crossed as the group accepted the brunette back in their midst. Frowning, she realized that in many ways, Faith was now a much bigger and streamlined member of their group than she was. There was just too much in her past that stood in the way. "Nah, I had enough," she finally added when a lull fell in their argument, realizing the double entendre of her own words.

"At least it makes for light travel," Xander offered as he watched Willow help their friend pack. "Is that what you're wearing?" he asked.

Frowning slightly, Buffy looked down at her simple white long-sleeved shirt and the blue jean coveralls that all but hid her slim form. "I don't know," she murmured, her expression faltering. "What do you wear to a prestigious wizarding school in England?" she asked, forcing a smile. "England... I've never even been to Canada," she smirked. "Plus, I don't really own any tweed," she mock-fretted.

"You look fine," Willow assured, gently squeezing her friend's arm.

"Oh, and you forgot a shirt," Xander added, lightly jumping to his feet and snatching up the garment that had been hidden in the corner. Smiling slightly, he tossed it to the blonde slayer, and reacting on instinct, she caught it easily.

Feeling her breath hitch, Buffy looked down at the tee-shirt, the pale blue material consuming her vision. She had thought that she had burned that shirt, or at least gotten rid of it for good. When she had gone shopping with Giles after being released from the hospital, the shirt had found its way into the pile of things to purchase. Later, back at his apartment, the mere sight of it had sent her into one of the fits that she so despised. Even now, she could hear their voices calling out to her, taunting her and laughing mercilessly as their blows rained down upon her body, reveling in her pain. In no time the pale blue tank and scratchy pants would be covered with her blood, only to be replaced later by a similar pair... always that same shade of pale blue. Always covered in her blood, the material doing nothing to hide her cuts and bruises... hide her pain.

"Buffy!"

Startled, Buffy's eyes snapped away from the garment, wondering how long she had been lost in her memories that time as she took in her friends' worried gazes. "I... I never really liked that shade, anyway," she murmured, smiling weakly as she quickly shoved the offending garment into Willow's hands. "You keep it," she added,forcing a bright grin that no doubt looked grotesque on her pale features. With shaking hands, she turned away from the questions in her friends' eyes and zipped up the bulging duffel. With a pained smile, she was about to throw it over one shoulder when Xander heaved the bag.

"Did I say light travel?" he joked as he smiled timidly at the blonde, relieved to see the thanks in her eyes. If there was one thing that they had learned over the past few months, it was that pushing Buffy to talk about what had happened, pushing her to talk about where she went when her eyes glazed over and her memories took over, would only push her away further. Instead, she prefered their blind sightedness to her new quirks. And if it meant making Buffy happy, Xander was willing to do anything. "Shall we?" he asked, leading the way back downstairs.

"That was quick," Giles observed from the living room as the teens rejoined him and Samuel, his eyes drifting over the solemn parade.

"Weapons?" Buffy returned, her eyes skipping over the two bags that rest against the far wall, wondering how she could have missed them before.

"Already packed," her Watcher assured, nodding towards the larger and bulkier of the two.

"Good," Buffy murmured, obviously distracted as her eyes swept over the room. "Then can you guys hang tight for a few minutes? I.. I need to go say goodbye to someone," she added, not waiting for a response as she headed towards the door.

Puzzled, Willow and Xander were about to start after her when Faith held up a hand, stopping them with the small gesture. "Let her go," she murmured knowingly as she watched her sister slayer disappear out the door. "This is something she needs to do alone."

* * *

Sighing softly, Buffy slowly made her way across the grassy grounds, the bright sun casting the familiar world into doubt. She wasn't accustomed to making this trek under the light of day, and the shadowless grounds were throwing her for a loop... as were the birds twittering in the trees above and the sounds of children filtering in from a nearby park. When she normally made this voyage, her world was covered in darkness with only the creatures of the night creating their own quiet symphony.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Buffy faltered and then stopped before a familiar granite tomb. The simple sight of it was enough to take her breath away as Buffy slipped to the ground, her legs curling beneath her as she gently placed the bouquet of wild flowers on the grave before her. "Hi Mom," she whispered, her words catching in her throat as her eyes traced thefamiliar name etched forever in granite. "I-I know that I said I wouldn't be back until tonight but... something has come up," she explained as her hands drifted over the green grass. "I have to go away for awhile, to England," she murmured. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, or if I'll even be coming back," she admitted, "but I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."

"You see," she began anew, "I... I can't do this. I can't just go on, day after day, when I see the ghost of you everywhere." Sighing, she turned her head away, her eyes drifting over the other graves that littered the area. "Sometimes my grief is just too much, and even though I understand that we're never going to see each other again, there's a part of me that wants to hold onto you forever - that begs me to never leave you here alone," she murmured, eyes returning, as always, to the gravestone. "It took me so long to get here to see you, and it would be easy for me to do that - to never leave, because leaving you might make you go away," she added, picturing her mother's beautiful hazel eyes in her mind - before grimacing as her mother's image rippled until her smiling face was one filled with the pain of death.

_Look away. Oh Baby, just please look away._

"I - I don't know if the dead can come back to this earth," she whispered, brushing away the tears that threatened to fall, "and move about unseen by those who loved them,but if they can, then I know that you'll always be with me. You're not gone forever," she murmured, her tone hardening with a fierce desperation for her words to be true, "no matter where I go. You're standing beside me, helping to guide me toward a future that I can't predict."

Sighing, Buffy slowly climbed to her feet, idly wiping the grass from her pants before reaching one hand out and laying it tenderly on the warm granite. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered, her voice soft, "for giving me so many happy memories," she murmured, despite the fact that it was still nearly impossible for her to picture anything else but her mother's death at this point. "Thank you for loving me," she pushed on stubbornly, "despite what I became... but most of all, thank you for understanding that there will come a time when I can eventually let you go."

With a soft nod, Buffy bent down a pressed her lips against the smooth stone, a single tear trailing down her cheek and falling on the grass that grew above her mother's final resting place. "You'll be okay here, and I'll never forget you. I'll try to come back to you. I love you," she whispered before slowly turning away.

* * *

A heavy silence had fallen upon the room in the time since Buffy had returned from her goodbyes. While she had been gone, the apartment had seen a whirlwind of activity as Giles finished the business of closing down his apartment for what could potentially be quite a long time. Maybe forever, even though none would admit to it. Instead, both Willow and Xander had endured Giles' tour of the apartment, pretending to take note of which book should be boxed with which over the next few week and which company they should contact to ship the rest of his important possessions to him in England. For now, only the essentials would be accompanying him and Buffy on their trip. And in truth, there simply wasn't enough time for anything further. Then it was Faith's turn to endure Giles' tour of which books would be left for her coming Watcher, the man finally, reluctantly, pressing his keys into her open hand to be passed to her new Watcher upon their arrival.

"And I expect to find my home in the same working order upon my return," he had added, a frown pulling at his lips as Faith's grin only grew.

"Sure G, whatever you say," she had chuckled, all the while throwing devious looks to the two remaining Scoobies.

However, since her return only minutes before, there was nothing left for the group to do but say their goodbyes. "What happened to Mr. Fellows?" Buffy asked, knowing that she was only delaying the inevitable as her eyes took note of the missing Brit.

"He was called away on urgent business," Giles explained crisply as he lifted his small duffel of personal items and moved it to the center of the room. "But don't worry, he and I went over everything before he left."

Shrugging her small shoulders, Buffy moved to foot of the stairs and lifted her duffel to her shoulder before scooping up the heavier bag of weapons, carrying them easily and depositing them besides Giles' bag. "Then I guess that's it," she murmured, her eyes skipping around the darkened apartment. "We should get-"

"But it's almost lunch time," Willow interrupted, pointing to the clock mounted on the wall behind her, pausing as she noted the small hand pointing to the ten. "In like two hours," she amended with a frown, "but maybe we should eat lunch now?" she suggested, her eyes betraying the real reason behind her query. She wasn't driven by hunger, but by the need to hold on a little longer.

Buffy slowly shook her head as she met her friend's green eyes. "No, Willow, it's time to go," she murmured. She knew that if they didn't leave soon - leave now - it would only get harder. "Besides, I'm sure we can grab something on the way to LA."

"We're not going to LA," Giles interrupted as he watched the display behind saddened eyes. Truth be told, Buffy wasn't the only one that was finding it difficult to say goodbye. Try as he might, he had been unable to prevent any of the teens in the room from worming their way into his heart. Oh, he had tried to stay distanced from them all as the Council demanded... but with teens like these, it was impossible. He was going to miss them all terribly - even Xander.

"What do you mean?" Buffy broke in, her brow tightening in confusion. "How else are we supposed to get to England? 'Cause last I checked, that was the closest international airport."

"We're not flying," Giles continued, smiling vaguely at his slayer's confusion.

"And not that I have anything against a cruise," Buffy continued, shooting a confused look to her friends, "but for the big hurry, isn't that going to take-"

"Buffy, we're taking a portkey."

"A what key?" Xander asked, looking at the Watcher as though he had grown a third head.

Smiling, Giles nodded towards a small silver thimble that he held in a handkerchief in one hand, a parting gift from his friend. "A portkey is a normal item that has been enchanted. Once we touch it, the portkey will instantaneously transport us to just outside the gates of Hogwarts."

Eying the small object doubtfully, Buffy slowly shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever you say," she said simply before turning her eyes to her friends. It was strange to think that for months they were all that she could think of - the only thing that kept her going even when the will to live had left her far behind. And here, only three months after finding them again, she was leaving them - this time of her own free will. Silently, she couldn't help but wonder if Jarod accidentally put her brain back wrong when he was playing God with her fried synapses. "Then I guess this is it," she murmured as Willow bowled into her arms. Surprised, it took Buffy a moment before her own arms wrapped around the taller girl, squeezing her for all that she was worth.

"I understand why you're going," Willow whispered, tears trailing down her cheeks as she said goodbye to her best friend. "Just don't be gone so long this time," she added as she pulled away, a small smile bravely fighting for dominance. It was a teary smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"I'll try," Buffy said, knowing that was the extent of the promise that she was able to give. "And tell Oz that I was sorry I couldn't say goodbye," she added before she was being turned and buried in Xander's embrace, the lanky teen dwarfing her as his head bent down towards her golden tresses.

"We'll be waiting for you to come home," he said, knowing there was nothing else he could say to convey the hurt that was building within him at seeing her go. They had survived, barely, without her these past few months, and Xander knew that life would continue on without the blonde slayer... but that didn't mean that they had to enjoy it. Frowning softly, he pulled away, her green eyes shining back up at him. "And if you come back sporting some new tweed, we're going to have issues," he added, forcing a familiar smirk in the Watcher's direction.

And then, as she was freed and the two teens turned to wrap their arms around the sputtering Watcher, Buffy was left with her sister slayer, the brunette standing before her with an expression that said that she didn't give a shit what happened. After all, if she allowed others to see the hurt, then that would leave her open to further damage. But Buffy knew better. "You'll take care of them for me, won't you?"

"No worries, B," Faith replied easily, a smile lifting her lips. "We're five by five - the Hellmouth won't even know what hit it."

"You're going to surprise them all," Buffy returned, smiling slightly before quickly leaning forward and hugging the slayer tightly, obviously surprising the girl. And even though the embrace wasn't returned, Buffy knew how Faith was feeling. The time that she had spent in Faith's head had been telling for both Slayers. There were no longer any walls or pretenses to keep either Slayer from seeing everything there was to see of the other. No more secrets. Buffy was able to see Faith's empty childhood, the rejection of her mother, the death of her first watcher, and all of her insecurities when faced with the tight-knit Scooby gang. In turn, Buffy suspected that Faith had seen all that Buffy had faced, from her parents' divorce when she was younger, to her first watcher's death, her own death at the hands of the Master, sending Angel to hell, his resurrection... and her mother's murder as well as all that she had endured while a captive of the Centre. Neither was a pretty picture, but Buffy realized that these glimpses into the most hidden parts of each other's mind had connected the two slayers in a way that the mere bonds of sister slayers had never united them before. She also knew that she was leaving the Hellmouth in safe hands. There was nothing left for her to do there.

Meanwhile, Giles allowed himself to be crushed between both Xander and Willow, the teens clinging to him tightly. Although part of him rebelled at such... affections, another part quietly reveled in it. After so many years, each of the teens had found a place in his heart. He had looked out for them all for so long, knew so much more about their lives than their own uncaring parents... he would miss them too.

"Take care of her for us, Giles," Xander stated quietly, not intending for the slayer to hear his muffled words.

"And make sure she gets better. I miss her," Willow admitted quietly before they both pulled away, forcing small smiles for the two slayers that watched their display with unbridled amusement.

"Yes, well," Giles said, clearing his throat loudly before nodding once to Buffy, "we should be off."

Nodding, Buffy made herself promise that she wouldn't cry as she quickly lifted the two remaining bags, slinging a strap over each shoulder. Idly, she realized that they were probably going to draw stares wherever they arrived. It probably looked a little ridiculous, what with Giles carrying one small duffel while Buffy, a mere portion of his height, shouldered two heavy packs as though they were nothing. Shrugging lightly, she realized it wasn't to be helped.

Buffy stepped beside her watcher and reached for the thimble the same instant as he. And as their fingers brushed against the cold metal, it felt as though something grabbed a hold of something deep inside of her, just behind her navel, and pulled with a force that took her breath away. A second later and they were gone.

"Goodbye," Willow whispered to the empty space, Xander's heavy arm falling over her shoulders. "And be careful," she added before silently following the two remaining Scoobies to the front door. Pausing, she looked back at the darkened and empty apartment. Already it felt different. Wrong. And somehow Willow knew that it would never be quite right again until both Giles and Buffy returned to them. "Hurry back..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 4  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"In the real world as in dreams, nothing is quite what it seems."**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

As the intense pulling sensation subsided, Buffy stumbled, slightly dizzy as she felt Giles' arm catch her around the waist. "Whoa there," she muttered, the bags dropping from her shoulders as she blinked rapidly, her body trying to adjust to the sudden changes that assaulted her form.

"Easy, Buffy," Giles soothed, noting his slayer's pale pallor. "Travel by portkey can take a little adjusting to," he murmured as Buffy finally fell still, large green eyes taking stock of their surroundings.

"What happened to the sun?" was her first question as Buffy's arms wrapped around her slim waist, shivering slightly in her thin shirt as her eyes skimmed the darkness that surrounded them, lessened only by the bright, full moon shining high above. They were standing on a simple gravel lane, tall trees towering on either side of the path that ended in two large brick pillars with an ornate arch connecting either side, the school name inscribed in the metal work. "And why is it so friggin' cold?" she demanded, eyes snapping back to her Watcher.

Chuckling slightly, Giles tilted his head back and took in the familiar gateway to the Hogwarts' grounds. It had been twenty-nine years since he had last stood before this gate - a long time in anyone's standards. He had never thought that he'd ever be granted the opportunity to see it again. He had never believed that he deserved that opportunity - not after what he had done to earn his banishment from this magical world. Even now old senses seemed to awaken as he could feel the old magics that inhabited this place - could almost _taste_ the magic in the air. It was good to be home. "In answer to your first question," he replied, a small smile playing at his lips as he turned to his young slayer, "the time is eight hours ahead here, making it after six at night. And as for your second..." he trailed off, looking pointedly down upon the heavy sweater and jacket that he had changed into while waiting for Buffy's return from her final goodbye. As the girl's eyes widened in sudden understanding, he realized that she hadn't even noticed the change. "Well, you're not in southern California anymore," he murmured, pausing to inhale deeply, his eyes closing in contentment. "Britain's average temperature during Spring is around forty-five degrees."

"But that's like winter in Sunnydale!" Buffy whined, watching as her breath left her in an icy plume. "See!" she cried out, pointing at the fading wisps, "that's just not right!"

Smiling, Giles lifted his duffel and began towards the arch, pausing to allow his slayer to join him. "Come along, Buffy, I'm sure that the Headmaster is expecting us," he said, beckoning her forward.

Grumbling softly about the unfairness of just finishing with the cold, Buffy hefted a bag to each shoulder and stepped forward - only to freeze as the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end at the same time that two soft pops sounded behind her. Startled, Buffy dropped her bags and turned quickly, eyes taking in the two men that stood behind her when seconds before there had been no one. "What the-" she began, stumbling back against her watcher as her hand instinctively crept towards the side pocket on the leg of her carpenter overalls, slim fingers wrapping around the hilt of the wooden stake she kept there.

"It's alright, Buffy," Giles assured, his hand stilling hers and gently pushing it back to her side.

"But they just popped here outta nowhere," she protested as she inspected the two. At least they looked as startled as she assumed she did, both quickly pulling long, thin pieces of wood from within their voluminous robes - pieces of wood that she recognized as a couple of those magic wand-thingies that Mr. Fletcher used all those months ago. The two had to be related, the older man seeming to be about Giles' age, with thinning red hair and patched, tweed robes. Stifling a smile at this, she turned her head to the younger man, who couldn't be that much older than herself, dressed in swirling black robes. He looked to be in his early twenties, tall and thin with flaming red hair that curled over his forehead. He held himself straight and his eyes darted nervously from them to the man beside him. Not that she could blame them - after hearing from Mr. Fellows about the ongoing battle, a little uneasiness at strangers was justified.

"Dad?" the guy asked, a silent question in his eyes.

"Easy, Percy," the father cautioned, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who are you and what's your business with Hogwarts?" he demanded, eyes taking in their unusual clothing. As odd as it seemed, the clothing seemed to indicate muggles, yet there was no way for muggles to find their way to Hogwarts.

"Hello," Giles began, beginning to push past his slayer, only to stop as their wands lifted slightly. "Right," he muttered, halting quickly. "My name is-"

"Wait, I recognize you," the man interrupted, his eyes narrowing as his lips turned down in a small frown. "You were a Ravenclaw - graduated two years ahead of me at Hogwarts," he said, eyes becoming pinched as they scoured over Giles' features. "I heard that you fell in with that group of Slytherins and began playing with the Dark Arts - killed one of your own group," he said, his son straightening at his words. "You were banished from our world close to thirty years ago."

"Which is a long, long time ago," Buffy interjected, bringing the man's attention to herself as she met his gaze defiantly. From the look on Giles' face, the guy's words were striking a sore spot. Not that she could blame him, she was only eighteen and already she had too many regrets. And even though they were most likely on the same side, anyone who caused that kind of pain to flash in her watcher's eyes instantly came on her bad side. "A lot can happen in thirty years. A lot can change," she insisted stubbornly, eyes darting from Giles' shadowed face to the two strangers... no, three. Cursing silently, Buffy bumped into Giles' as a third man appeared with a soft pop, arriving beside the other two when seconds before there was no one. "And would you guys stop with the freaky popping thing!?" she cried out, eyes flashing as she took in this new stranger. The man was taller than the others, slightly younger than the eldest redhead with a head of unruly black hair, startling blue eyes quickly assessing the group before yet another wand joined the others. "Anyone else planning on popping in or can I have the heart attack now?" she asked sarcastically as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Arthur, what's going on?" the new man asked, addressing the older redhead before his eyes turned on them. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice carrying a threatening note that Buffy recognized too easily. She was usually the one on the other side of the veiled threats.

But before they could answer, the younger guy, Percy, quickly spoke up. "Sirius, Dad said that the man was banished from the wizarding world for killing a man."

"He _so_ did not say that!" Buffy retorted, feeling her frustration begin to melt under a wave of anger. "It was a mistake, and he's more than made amends!" she quickly protested, shooting her watcher a concerned glance. To think that she had willingly agreed to give up everything that she knew to come all the way to this bizarre place to help these people. There was one thing for certain and that was that they certainly weren't getting off to a good start with the Slayer.

"Leave it be, Buffy," Giles murmured, his hand landing firmly on her own.

Sighing, Buffy shook her head before acquiescing to her watcher's wishes. Fine, if he wanted her to play nice, she would. After all, they were just trying to protect their home. That was a feeling that she could relate with. "Whatever," she murmured, sighing as she quickly reclaimed her two bags and began walking towards the arch that led onto the school grounds. Yet the second her foot attempted to cross over the invisible barrier, she felt as though a powerful volt of electricity tore through her, catapulting her back and through the air until she landed on the hard ground a good twenty feet back in a tangle of limbs and bags. Groaning, she slowly opened her eyes to find Giles' worried gaze above her.

"Buffy, are you alright?" he asked, gently pulling the small girl to her feet.

"Except for that big ow," she muttered as she stood stiffly, gingerly testing sore muscles before nodding slightly, "yeah, everything seems to be in working order. Not like I haven't done the electricity bit before," she added darkly before pushing the horrible memories away before they could consume her. "What happened?" she asked as she began brushing the dirt from her jeans.

"The ward," the black-haired man, Sirius, responded, his voice a low growl, "prevents all from entering the grounds of Hogwarts save those who are completely loyal to Dumbledore."

"Dumble-Who?" Buffy retorted, wincing as she found a tender patch of skin, rubbed raw from her landing on the hard gravel.

But even as her words were leaving her mouth, the three men were forming a line between them and the grounds of Hogwarts, wands poised and ready. Apparently her question hadn't been the right one. "I didn't know that You-Know-Who had Yanks for Death Eaters!" Percy exclaimed, finally placing the girl's strange accent, his hand shaking slightly as he held his wand firmly, eyes skipping about and waiting for the other Death Eaters to abandon their hiding places in the nearby woods.

"We don't work for Voldemort," Giles quickly protested, the three men flinching at the name "We're here to help-"

"Dumbledore would never ask for help from the likes of you!" Sirius retorted as Buffy rolled her eyes at the man's dramatics.

"You don't know even anything about us or what you're talking about," she countered. "_He_ has no idea what he's talking about!" she added, pointing an accusing finger at the guy who couldn't be more than a few years older than herself. Yet through her annoyance, Buffy still caught the way the men tightened their holds on their wands, eyes skipping over her and locking on Giles, as though they were automatically ignoring her as a threat and focusing on the real one. How wrong they were. Eyes narrowing, she slowly moved until she was standing between the men and her Watcher, hoping that Samuel wasn't incorrect in his estimation that their little hocus pocus stuff wouldn't affect her as it would him. "And besides," she added, arms crossing her chest as she eyed their wands skeptically, "I bet that I'm going to be able to do a bit more damage with my own pointy stick then you will be with yours," she said, her smile turning innocent for a brief moment as she referred to the stake that was within her reach. "So do you guys wanna drop your pointy sticks before I use one of my own?" she asked, her gaze turning cold as Giles' started behind her.

"No, you must listen-" Giles began, sending Buffy's golden head a harsh glare. Things were getting out of hand and Buffy's hot temper wasn't helping matters - a temper that hadn't been nearly this easy to fan into a bright flame a year ago. Another byproduct of the Centre's abuse of his Slayer.

Ignoring Giles, Sirius curtly shook his head. "I never would have expected a move like this so soon," he countered, his eyes narrowing on the tall man standing behind the girl.

"But we're unarmed-"

"Like hell we are!" Buffy retorted as she reached towards her side pocket. But before her hand even had a chance to graze the weapon, the dark-haired man was waving his little stick like it was a sparkler on Independence Day, his mouth muttering a few quiet words. And then it was as though Buffy could feel the magic moving around her before a brush of air fanned across her skin, sending a slight tingle through her body. Shivering, Buffy shook her head before she lifted her gaze to the man, his blue eyes wide with shock. "You tried to hocus pocus me!" she accused, eyes narrowing. Instantly she slipped low, one thought on her mind: disarming him before he managed to do something with that wand that could hurt Giles. "And you know what?" she continued, smiling innocently. "That kind of tickled," she said, a feral grin lifting her lips before she launched herself at him, moving faster than his eyes could follow. In seconds she was upon him, a closed hand knocking the wand from his grip as a roundhouse kick connected with the man's stomach, sending him flying back and through the gates of Hogwarts, landing in a groaning mass on the ground.

Smiling, Buffy straightened from her crouch and began to daintily wipe her small hands together, hearing her Watcher's muffled curse from behind her. "Hey, he tried to zap me!" she cried in her defense as he brushed past her, his gaze focused on the man - so focused that he never even saw the younger man move his wand before it was too late.

"_Stupefy!_" Percy cried, the simple spell sending the strange man to the ground in an unmoving heap.

Startled, time seemed to freeze for Buffy as her eyes locked on Giles' unmoving form, feeling as though her world was collapsing around her. In seconds Buffy's numb form was at her watcher's side, all color leaving her cheeks as she frantically began shaking him. "Giles? Giles!" she cried, her voice growing frantic. Gone was her mirth, her verbal spars... everything. In its place was a painful image of her mother's eyes, locked with her own as the bullets tore into her unresisting flesh. She had lost one already. She couldn't lose another. "Giles?" she asked again, desperately. But he never responded, and save for the rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought that she had lost him already.

Feeling herself lose control, Buffy tore her eyes away from her watcher and felt her gaze narrow on the young redhead, his eyes locking with her own. And then she was on him before he could do more than utter a startled gasp. "What did you do to him?" Buffy demanded as she seized Percy by the neck and shoved him back against the brick support of the arch, easily lifting him until his toes scrabbled at the dirt below. "What did you _do_ to him?!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she felt someone tug at her arm. Without turning, Buffy sent that person flying with a hard shove, her eyes boring into the guy's wide hazel eyes.

"Y-you heard me," he stuttered, his eyes skipping between her cold green eyes and his father, climbing slowly to his feet from where the girl had thrown him as though he weighed no more than Ginny. "I-I stupefied him!"

"Well I'll stupid you if you don't undo it! Undo it!" she screamed, and before she had realized it the stake was out of her pocket and clenched in her hand, the point pressing tightly against the guy's exposed throat. "Undo it or so help me God-" she began, her words dying on her lips as her stake was pulled from her hand. Startled, Buffy felt control filter through her mind once more as she turned her head, watching as the guy's father caught the weapon in one trembling hand. His eyes were wide and panicked, his steps hesitant as he moved carefully to the other downed man, helping him to his feet.

"God, what's wrong with me?" she murmured, releasing her grip on her captive and slowly backing away, her hands shaking slightly as she looked down at the pale skin. Seeing Giles like that, so still and unmoving... it had awakened a rage in her that she had only felt once before - a rage that had resulted in her gutting the man who had murdered her mother. Then, it was justified. But now? This guy was just trying to protect his family. His home. And she had almost-

Shaking away the thought, unwilling to allow herself to finish that line of thinking, Buffy turned shadowed eyes to the older man. "Please tell your son to undo whatever he did to Giles," she murmured, her chin lifting slightly as the boy hurried to his father's side.

"What are you?" Sirius asked, his face tightening into a grimace as he wrapped one arm protectively around his waist.

"I'm a Vampire Slayer," Buffy returned, wincing at the hated word even as she watched as their eyes widened. Noting this, she slowly moved until she was kneeling beside her downed Watcher. "And this is my Watcher," she explained as she lifted his limp hand in her own.

"You're the Chosen One?" Percy asked, his tone incredulous as he looked the at the petite girl with wide eyes. She looked so small and delicate - so American. Then again, it definitely explained his bruised throat and Sirius' obviously pained state.

"One of them," Buffy admitted, slowly lifting her head to take in the wary trio. "And since you seem familiar with the term, then you should also realize that means that we're one of the good guys and not in league with your Moldy-Wart guy," she added, slaughtering the name in true Buffy fashion as her dark gaze settled on the one that had caused this. "And you should also know that if you don't undo whatever you did, you're going to see quick enough that I don't need my stake to finish this," she vowed, her expression turning deadly.

"But you weren't able to pass through the gate," Percy quickly protested, looking highly and ridiculously affronted by her threat. "You're obviously not loyal to Professor Dumbledore."

"Your Dumbledore was the guy who invited us here in the first place!" Buffy retorted, long since sick of this game. "Besides, recent events have taught me to trust only in my friends," she retorted, pain flashing across her young features. "I don't give it away freely anymore - people have to earn it first," she murmured before quickly shaking away the past. "Now are you really going to make me come over and prove that I wasn't kidding?" she asked, her muscles tensing.

"Oh for God's sake, Percy," Arthur cried, sending his son an exasperated glare, "just undo the damn curse already!"

Gulping at the tone in his father's voice, Percy quickly did as ordered, muttering _ennervate_ beneath his breath and watching as his magic did its work.

As her Watcher's body twitched and then began to move, Buffy felt herself release a breath that she hadn't realized that she had been holding, her cold anger melting away. Sighing softly, she allowed a bright smile to lift her lips as Giles' green eyes focused on her own, extending a hand and helping him unsteadily to his feet. "Welcome back," she murmured before tentatively wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him close. "I couldn't have lost you," she whispered, her words muffled against the soft leather of his jacket. "Not you too," she murmured as Giles gently pushed her away, a frown pulling at his lips.

"You won't," he promised, hoping that he would always be able to keep that promise to his Slayer as his eyes took in the three men, huddled together just inside the gates of Hogwarts and eyeing them with a mix of confusion and shame. Sighing, his eyes took in the damage his slayer had caused while he had been out for the count - a little dirtier when they had arrived, one cradling his stomach while the other massaged a red throat. All in all, they came out lucky considering that they most likely just faced a very upset slayer, if her rushed words were any indication. He supposed that he should be thankful - especially since from the way he was feeling, he had only been hit by a very minor curse. It may have been over twenty years ago, but Giles would recognize the after effects of being stupefied anywhere.

As an uncomfortable silence fell over the group, Arthur's eyes continued to flicker back to the small girl that had displayed a strength that was staggering. When added to the fact that Sirius' powerful curse did little more than 'tickle' her, it was obvious to him, once again, that Dumbledore knew what he was doing. "Yes, well," he began, shifting slightly as he broke the heavy silence. "I do apologize for our uncalled for actions," Arthur murmured. "It seems that this was all a misunderstanding - on our part," he said, smiling timidly at the strangers. "So let's try this again - the right way, this time," he said as he stepped through the gates and extended a hand to the older man. "My name is Arthur Weasley, Gryffindor Class of '73," he said, shaking the man's hand firmly, nodding to the girl, before turning to indicate the two wizards behind him. "The lad with the bruised neck is my son, Percy - Gryffindor Class of '96, and the man with the broken ribs and gruff manners is Sirius Black, Gryffindor class of '75," he finished with a smile, watching as Black turned a good-natured glare on him.

Smiling in return, Giles released Arthur's hand, trying to place the balding redhead with the distant memories he had of his fellow students all those years ago at Hogwarts. "A pleasure," he returned as Buffy reclaimed their bags. "My name is Rupert Giles, Ravenclaw Class of '71, and this is Buffy Summers," he introduced, watching as Buffy nodded lightly to the trio. "And I apologize for Buffy's rough-handling," he added, pointedly glaring at the girl.

"Hey!" Buffy protested, returning her watcher's glare as she purposely dropped the weapons bag on his foot, enjoying his pained wince before turning accusing eyes on the two wizards behind Arthur. "They started it! The big guy tried to hocus pocus me and the other guy made you go all unconscious," she pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest.

Chuckling softly, Sirius slowly made his way to the trio, offering his hand to the girl. "My mistake," he murmured, blue eyes skimming over her dainty figure. "It's not often we get strangers here, and when we do... well, in these times it never hurts to curse first and ask questions later."

For a moment, Buffy seemed to consider his offer before slipping her cold hand in his warm, rough hand. "And here I always thought the British were all good manners and stuff," she said smiling softly. "My mother always taught me it was impolite to curse in public," she explained, not even realizing what she had said before the words had left her mouth. When the realization did kick in, Buffy felt her smile falter before crumbling altogether. Without a word she quickly withdrew her hand and reached for the bags.

"Here, allow me," Percy offered, feeling the need to apologize in his own way as he hurried over and attempted to take the larger of the two bags from the girl - only to have it drop at his feet with an impossibly heavy thump. "What do you have in this thing?" he asked, wincing as the bag barely missed hitting his own feet.

"Oh, the usual," Buffy smirked as she traded him bags. "Stakes, swords, crossbows, knives... an axe or two," she rambled as she lightly lifted the bag, smiling at the guy's astonishment.

"Yes, well," Arthur murmured, chuckling at the girl's words. She had a fire to her, a fire that seemed to flicker and flare in between interminable bouts of wearied sadness - a sadness and grief that was all too easy to recognize. Perhaps it took a loss of his own loved ones, the pain still so fresh and recent, for him to be able to recognize it in another. With the threat of Voldemort and the war that plagued their world, there wasn't a witch or wizard out there who didn't at least know someone who had lost someone already to the war. Whether they were a direct victim of the Dark Lord's brutality or merely someone who was caught in the crossfire. Sighing, Arthur shook his heavy thoughts away and forced a smile for the guests. "I would like to make it up to you and Miss Summers by having you join my family and I for dinner in the Great Hall," he said, his smile turning warm at the thought of what awaited them all in the castle. "It's evident that a lot has changed since we've seen each other last," he added, nodding to Giles as his eyes took in the strange muggle clothing. He knew that there would be no loss for conversation that night, just by the muggle-ness of the two.

"Of course," Giles replied as he followed the men through the gates and onto the path that would lead them to Hogwarts. "We would be honored. We should meet with Dumbledore first, but by the time we're finished, it will be close to lunch time, our time - I'm sure that Buffy will be..." he trailed off as he noted the one person their little group was missing. Stopping, he turned to find his Slayer still standing back beyond the Hogwarts' arch, her eyes warily tracing the curve of the iron above her head. "Buffy?" he asked, catching the others' attention as he slowly began to return to his slayer's side.

"Uh... maybe you can just send somebody out with a sandwich or something," Buffy offered with a small smile, pointedly gazing up at the arch and then back to where she had landed painfully only a few short minutes ago. "One jolt was enough, thank you very much," she added as understanding dawned on Giles' features.

"Of course, the barrier," he sighed, shaking his head as his eyes followed hers on the path of the tall arch. "Arthur?" he asked, turning back to the balding redhead who had obviously just reached the same conclusion. "Is there any way to lower the barrier, just for a moment?"

"I'm afraid that would be quite impossible," Arthur returned as Sirius joined them at the gate, "even for a moment."

"It took us quite a while to put up such a strong barrier on the day that Hogwarts closed its doors to the students," Sirius explained with a small frown, shrugging helplessly. "Only Dumbledore can remove the wards, and even then, it would leave Hogwarts unprotected for far too long."

Sighing, Giles slowly eyed his slayer.

"I prefer turkey, American cheese, lettuce - no mayo," Buffy joked, smiling wryly at her watcher before a sudden frown pulled at her lips. "Do they even have American cheese in England? And if so, do they call it American Cheese or something else? What do they call English muffins?"

"Buffy, you're not helping," he murmured, glaring softly at the girl.

"Well what do you expect me to do?" she retorted, dropping her bag to the ground with a heavy thud. "Get Bugs and ask him to dig me a hole under the gate for a little carrot?"

"I'm not sure who this Bugs fellow is," Percy broke in hesitantly from beside his father, "but I can tell you that digging a hole beneath the gate wouldn't help either. You see, the barrier-"

"I was kidding," Buffy sighed as she turned to her watcher with tired eyes. "And here I thought you were the only one with a defective funny bone - I didn't realize it was a cultural-"

"Buffy, do you trust me?" Giles interrupted, stilling his ward as she eyed him with suspicion.

"Of course."

"Then you'll have to trust me in this," he said, his tone firm. "You must believe me when I say that by being loyal to Dumbledore, you're being loyal to what's good in the wizarding world."

Sighing softly, Buffy lifted a cold hand to her forehead. "You're asking a lot from someone who's never even met the guy," she muttered before bending down to lift the duffle once again. "But if it'll get me out of this freaking cold weather and someplace warm," she amended before slowly straightening her shoulders, refusing to flinch. "I just hope that it's good enough," she added as she tentatively lifted one foot and stepped across the barrier. Instantly, her smile turned up a notch or two as she beamed at the waiting wizards and her watcher. "Hey, zap free!" she crowed, smiling impishly before pushing past the others and moving down the path... and freezing as the trees cleared before her and she got her first good look at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Breathing deeply, Giles stilled beside his slayer, his eyes tracing over the large castle, brightly lit from within and standing as an unyielding testament to everything good about the world that he had been forced from so long ago. It hadn't changed a bit, and to Giles it almost felt as though he had stepped back in time the moment he had crossed onto the grounds of Hogwarts. He truly did feel as though he had finally come home after years of being away. "Buffy, welcome to Hogwarts," he murmured as the others pushed on past them, talking quietly to themselves as they moved along the rutted path.

"This is a school?" Buffy breathed, minutes later as they approached the massive front doors to the school. For the entire duration of the walk to the school, her eyes had remained transfixed on the sight of the castle before her. "Why don't we have schools like these in California?" she demanded as they stepped through the doors and into the massive front hall of the castle.

"Shoddy craftsmanship?" Giles returned as his bag joined Buffy's on the stone floor.

"Percy, why don't you see that the house elves bring their bags to their rooms," Arthur instructed, "and then accompany Sirius to the hospital wing to see Madame Pomfrey. Molly will have my head if you got two go to dinner looking as you do," he said with a small smile. "In the meantime, I'll show our guests to Dumbledore's office," he continued before turning and beginning up the grand staircase. "Coming?" he asked, tilting his head to Giles and Buffy before disappearing into the brightly lit hallway beyond.


	5. Chapter 5

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 5  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"When opportunity knocks, don't just stand there. Open the door."**  
-Anonymous-

Hogwarts wasn't just a school in Buffy's mind. It was more like a fairytale. She couldn't help but be enchanted by the wide, sweeping stone staircases, the bright torches that illuminated the long cold halls, the ancient draperies... and that was just the castle itself. When she caught sight of the first portrait, a young woman depicted so beautifully on canvas in a dress that flared around her rounded figure - a figure that turned and bustled around the canvas... she almost attacked the painting with the stake that Arthur Weasley had returned to her. Which was when Giles explained the funny thing about Hogwarts' paintings: the fact that they moved, talked, and interacted with the subject of each painting as well as with the people moving down the hall. At Giles' and Arthur's amusement, she had been embarrassed at first, but then that quickly faded as she watched the people and animals in the paintings move from frame to frame, conversing with each other and occasionally attempting to converse with them as well. When a young man in tight breeches and a billowing shirt turned from the young woman he had been busy courting in a lush garden to eye her appreciatively, it was all Buffy could do to keep the blush from returning to her cheeks. "Are all the paintings like this in Hogwarts?" she asked, turning her eyes back to the two men that accompanied her.

"Every one of them," Arthur confirmed, frowning at the thought of some of the more bizarre paintings that were displayed in various places. "Even those you wish weren't," he added, sharing a knowing smile with her watcher.

"Okay, but there aren't any Picasso type abstract paintings around, are there?" Buffy asked, grimacing as she pictured some of the subjects of those strange paintings running about. "Because I doubt that would be very pretty."

Smiling, Giles shook his head. Only his slayer, he realized as Arthur came to a stop before a large and imposing stone gargoyle. Taking a step back, the watcher admired the familiar statue, a rush of memories assaulting him. "Do you know the password?" he asked without turning, feeling his slayer still beside him as she looked blankly from the statue to the men that stood so expectantly before it.

"Yum Yum Sparks," Arthur replied in way of response, smiling slightly as the gargoyle slowly began to revolve, ascending as a curved stairway escalated up and out of sight. Smiling at the look of wonder on the young slayer's face, Arthur nodded once towards her watcher. "I must be off or my wife, Molly, will begin to worry. Dinner in the Great Hall?"

"Of course," Giles confirmed as Arthur shook his hand before disappearing back down the long hall, leaving him and his Slayer alone before the stair. "Well, come along then," he murmured, stepping forward and beginning up the familiar stairs, stopping only when faced with the large wooden door, thrown open and allowing a warm light to seep into the dark stairwell.

Pausing at the threshold beside her watcher, Buffy took in the large circular office that greeted them. It was cluttered and smelled of cinnamon, the soft sounds of snoring echoing in the large chamber from the many old men and women that slept in the paintings far above. The room was odd... yet it also felt comfortable and made her think of a grandfather's study - if she had ever known either of her grandfathers. Shrugging at the thought, she watched as Giles' quickly strode forward, a large smile lifting his features as an old man rose gracefully from the large desk before them. And when she said old, she meant _old_. So old, that it was probably a miracle that the guy was still kicking, with a long white beard and long white hair that peaked out beneath a rumpled purple hat that matched his soft velvet robes. He looked quite the character - a character that was giving her some pretty weird vibes.

"Professor Dumbledore," her watcher greeted, beaming as he gripped the older man's hand.

"Rupert Giles," Dumbledore returned, blue eyes twinkling behind small spectacles. "Welcome back, welcome back," he murmured, recognizing the bright young man even amongst the graying hair and the lines brought both with time and a hard life that had seen too much turmoil and heartache. "It's been too long," he added before slowly releasing his old student's hand. "I trust that Samuel passed on my apologies for being unable to come earlier as you requested?"

"Of course," Giles confirmed, his tired green eyes skipping around the room. Even though it had been close to thirty years since he had last stood here, it seemed as though not a thing had changed. "Besides, after talking to Samuel this morning, I understand that you have had other quite pressing matters to attend to," he added as Dumbledore looked past him. Understanding, Giles slowly stood aside and watched as Buffy continued to hesitate at the open doorway beyond. It was amusing to see his Slayer so... well, shy was almost what he was thinking, her gaze uncertainly sweeping over the old wizard.

"Buffy Summers," Dumbledore greeted as his eyes seemed to peer right through her. "It does seem as though my spell worked rather well, did it not?" he added as he held a hand out towards her.

Risking a quick glance at her watcher, Buffy slowly shrugged and abandoned her post at the door, finishing the distance between herself and the old man, both of his soft, warm hands wrapping around her own. "And I guess that makes you the guy who invited us," Buffy returned, eyeing the man through narrowed eyes, trying to place the strange energy she felt radiating off his form. It took her a moment, but soon she was able to place at least some of it. Power, plain and simple. And a lot of it. "Thanks for helping me get my brain back," she added, almost as an afterthought as she finally grinned, deciding that while she sensed some pretty odd stuff from the guy, he sure didn't feel evil. He was definitely old and kind of quirky, but not evil.

Chuckling softly, Dumbledore released her hand before turning crinkled eyes to her watcher. "Rupert, she is absolutely delightful!" he stated before turning and bustling back towards his desk, settling his creaking bones back into his large chair. "Care for a lemon drop?"

"Ooh, did you hear that Giles?" Buffy asked as she accepted one of the yellow surgared candies, not missing her watcher's grimace - whether it be the thought of actually trying one of the offered candies or the thought of her _on_ the aforementioned sugared candy. Beaming, she fell into one of the seats before the desk, throwing her watcher a bright grin. "He thinks I'm delightful! Why don't you ever call me delightful?"

"Because I know you too well," Giles returned evenly, politely refusing the dish.

Chuckling at the girl's scowl, Dumbledore clasped his hands before him, his eyes turning from one of his guests to the other. "I want to thank you again for coming, and I trust that Samuel informed you of the precarious state our world has found itself in?" he asked, arching a fine, bushy brow as his eyes locked on his old student.

"We were told of the ongoing war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, yes," Giles assured, noting with a small measure of satisfaction that at least Dumbledore didn't flinch at his use of the dark wizard's name.

"I'm not really sure how I can help exactly, but I'd be glad to try," Buffy added, shrugging her small shoulders as she absently slid her feet out of her white tennies and curled her legs beneath her, purposely ignoring Giles' glare at her actions.

Smiling knowingly, Dumbledore slowly leaned back in his chair, his hands forming a teepee before him on his desk. As his eyes swept over the small girl that sat curled before him, a part of him couldn't help but be amazed at the thought that this tiny being contained so much strength and power. So much will. Then again, it was easy for him to sense the power and strength that radiated from her small form. He doubted that anyone else, save perhaps Lord Voldemort himself, could sense such a different type of magic that came from deep within her, yet it caused the air around her to crackle for him. "From what I've heard," he said, his eyes crinkling behind the half-moon spectacles he wore, "you, my dear, have already proven yourself to be a worthy opponent against an armed wizard."

Starting, Buffy nearly fell out of her chair as she sent her watcher a panicked gaze. "But.. how did you hear about that? Already?" she squeaked, feeling her face begin to grow hot. Okay, so not exactly her most stunning moment ever - especially when it came to introductions to new allies. But once more in her defense, the Sirius guy _did_ try to zap her first.

Smiling benignly, Dumbledore lifted a weathered hand and began tugging at the ends of his long beard. "There is little that goes on in Hogwarts that I am unaware of," he stated before staring pointedly at Giles, who had the good graces to flush to much the same color as his ward.

"Y-yes, well," Giles stammered, ducking his head as he set about the task of furiously polishing his already immaculate glasses, "is there anything in particular that you had in mind?"

Amused, the aging wizard watched as Buffy arched a slim brow at her watcher, knowing without a doubt that she would be hounding him later for the many stories he could tell of his own time at Hogwarts so many years before. However, those stories would indeed have to wait for later. Sighing softly, Dumbledore felt his merriment disappear under the heavy weight of the state of the wizarding world. Under the threat of Voldemort. "Hogwarts," he began slowly, his eyes dimming slightly beneath the seriousness of the threat they faced before sparkling once more with fondness, "has been fortunate in recent years to have a worthy grounds keeper and professor for the Care of Magical Creatures class in the form of one Rubeus Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" Giles asked, surprise evident in his voice. "I remember Hagrid - a half-giant, if I'm not mistaken," he murmured, thinking back to the young man, who even during Giles' time at Hogwarts, had been present on the grounds, the old Ground Keeper's assistant.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore acknowledged, "a fact that has been keeping the lad rather busy, acting as my emissary between the wizarding world and the giants," he explained with a shrug before turning his eyes on the young Miss Summers. "Thus, there has been no one to truly keep an eye on the Forbidden Forest."

"A forest, huh?" Buffy asked noncommittally. "Why's it forbidden?"

"The forest surrounding Hogwarts has always contained many dangerous and mythical creatures," Dumbledore explained, smiling as he thought of how Hagrid considered many of the most dangerous of creatures to be his friends. "Many of these creatures would not hesitate to attack even a full-grown wizard, thus ensuring certain danger to any student who was foolish enough to venture into her depths. However, in the last few years, most likely thanks to Voldemort himself, Hagrid has found that beings even stranger and more dangerous have entered the wood, prowling off the innocents found within and trying to find a way past the barrier that guards Hogwarts. I fear that they are merely biding their time there, right on Hogwart's borders, until Voldemort himself is ready to attack the school," he finished, his tone heavy and his face grim.

"So you want me to patrol the forest and get rid of the baddies?" Buffy summarized with a bright grin, itching to get out there and do what she did best. In the months since her return to Sunnydale Buffy had quickly found that fighting the Hellmouth's evil was one of the few things that she could do that would make her forget. It made her forget about her mom, about Lyle, about the Centre, about Raines, about the drugs - about everything. For a short time, she could even forget about herself and imagine that nothing had come to pass to irrevocably change her life forever. In those moments, she was nothing more than the Slayer, doing her chosen duty and ridding the world of evil. It was a simple life, a good life... but one that quickly began to wane in the ongoing months in Sunnydale. Too soon the demons and undead began to dwindle under her and Faith's prowess until the memories began to haunt her once more. Drowned her. For the first time ever, Buffy found herself wishing for an apocalypse as she realized that the hunt wasn't enough to consume her - and too soon she found herself becoming lost within herself and the memories. But now, Dumbledore was offering the best gift of all: a forest just teeming with the bad stuff she was born to destroy. In her mind, it couldn't get any better than this.

Smiling at the girl's odd speech, Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "Your efforts in the Forbidden Forest would be of the greatest help to us at this point. If luck is with us, Lord Voldemort will not even be aware of your presence until it is too late. However," he added, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious, "it will not be easy."

Waving away his concern, Buffy leaned back in her chair and propped her small feet on the corner of Dumbledore's desk, only to have Giles quickly swat them back down. Pouting for a moment, she sighed and settled her feet under her once again. "Listen, it's no big," she assured nonchalantly. "I've been doing the nightly patrol bit since I turned fifteen and I haven't met a baddie yet that I couldn't dust, maim, grind with a sledge hammer, blow up, or kill in some fashion..." she trailed off, her eyes growing clouded.

_"I-I promised, long ago," she rasped as though her voice had been unused for too long... or used too much, staggering forward until she fell against Lyle, "that I would make an exception for you," she finished as she buried the knife to the hilt in him, her arm wrapped around his neck and bringing them nose to nose. "I.. I keep my promises," she murmured as she used the last of her strength to twist the knife, the light going out of Lyle's eyes as he staggered back and then fell to the ground, she falling on top of him._

Pushing past the memory, Buffy looked away from the two men, eyes fixing on nothing as her own screams of agony echoed in her ears. "Well, almost ever night," she amended with a small frown, soon becoming snared in the memories of the endless tortures that she had endured at the hands of the Centre.

Sensing the darkness to which his Slayer was becoming lost, Giles turned his heavy eyes to the aging Headmaster, noting that the old man's sparkle seemed to be completely absent as he eyed his ward with an ageless sadness. It didn't take a wizard to see the pain that still marked his slayer - the pain that may never truly heal. Try as she might, the experience had nearly shattered her - nearly destroyed her, leaving her as half a person. Oh, she would try and put up the old familiar front, and for a time she did it so convincingly that he believed she even fooled herself... but in the end, it would only take a reminder of the horrors that she had endured and it would be like she was catapulted back into that pain. Sighing softly, Giles realized that the worst part about it was the realization that he was powerless to help.

In an obvious effort to bring the two out of their despair, Dumbledore clapped his hands loudly, his eyes sparkling as the girl nearly fell out of her chair for a second time. "And here I am, an old fool blathering about such matters that can surely wait till another time, when you both must be famished from your long travels!"

Looking at the headmaster as though he had grown an additional head, Buffy briefly entertained the thought of pointing out that the portkey had transported them to England in seconds, making it only an hour or so since she had said her goodbyes. But after a confused glance to her Watcher, who merely watched Dumbledore with an amused air, Buffy simply shrugged her shoulders. "Right," she confirmed. "Absolutely starved. I could eat a horse."

Standing from his desk, Giles and Buffy following his cue towards the door, Dumbledore paused briefly, as though considering her words. "While I don't believe that the house elves generally serve horse, I can ask if they can obtain such a meal for you for tomorrow night."

Paling slightly at his words, Buffy shook her head. "Oh no, that's really not necessary," she quickly protested, shooting her watcher a panicked glance. She just couldn't get a read on this guy - couldn't decide if he was just pulling her leg or really that odd that he was being serious. "I actually just recently gave up horse," she deadpanned, shrugging slightly. "You know us American girls - so consumed by our body image. The horse just wasn't cutting it for me or my thighs so it had to go. Gotta keep that girlish image!"

"Well, if you're sure," Dumbledore returned, winking at Giles' as they neared his open door. With a great sigh, he nodded once. "Well, in any case, you and Miss Summers have been given a set of adjoining rooms on the fourth floor. I'll see that someone shows you to your rooms later, and if you need anything at any time, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Of course, thank you," Giles replied, shaking the man's hand once more.

"No, thank you," Dumbledore countered, smiling warmly as he shook Buffy's hand as well. "And if you see Sirius Black at dinner, would you please ask him to see me later? I'm afraid that he's been gone on an errand, of sorts, for me for the last few weeks. I would like to speak with him at his earliest convenience... although I imagine that between his visit with Madam Pomfrey and the prospect of seeing his godson once again, I most likely won't see him until morning."

"We'll be sure to pass along the message," Giles assured before he and Buffy disappeared from sight.

"The girl has been through a lot, has she not?"

Smiling softly, Dumbledore turned away from the door and watched as a tall, older witch entered his office from a door behind his desk, her hair pulled back severely from her face. A face that was unable to hide the concern that only he could recognize shining from her small dark eyes. "Minerva," he greeted, shuffling back towards his desk. "What a surprise."

Snorting at the headmaster's words, Professor McGonagall glided around the room until she was standing just within the doorway to his office, listening to the clatter of descending feet before her hands pushed the heavy wood shut. "Hardly," she retorted. "You knew I was there from the moment that I arrived," she accused lightly.

"Then why didn't you join us? I'm sure that Mr. Giles would delight in seeing the woman that his young Transfiguration professor turned into."

"I didn't want to interrupt," McGonagall said, waving away his words as she moved until she was seated in one of his recently vacated chairs. "And Albus, you're avoiding my question, albeit quite skillfully," she added with a wry smile. "The girl, your slayer... she brings a haunted past with her."

"Don't we all?" Dumbledore countered, his smile turning enigmatic.

"But are you sure that her past won't distract her? Or worse, get her or someone close to her killed? If You-Know-Who learns of this Slayer, you know that he will learn of her weaknesses and use them against her."

"Then perhaps young Miss Summers will have to learn to turn her weaknesses into her strengths," Dumbledore suggested quietly. "There are certainly enough of us here at Hogwarts for her to learn this lesson from."

"Such as Mister Harry Potter?"

"They do both have a lot in common, do they not?" Dumbledore asked before slowly leaning back in his chair. "Both racing against a destiny that neither asked for. A destiny that is both uncertain and which promises great strife - one that neither can avoid. Yet one that I have great hope that they will both overcome in the end."


	6. Chapter 6

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 6  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"A journey begins not with the first step, but with the desire to go where you have never gone."**  
-Anonymous-

Absently, a slender hand lifted and brushed back an errant black strand of hair before tangling long fingers in the tousled mess, trying to flatten it even as it rebelled against the touch and continued to streak in every direction. It was a hopeless battle, one that had been long-fought for the past seventeen years. A battle that one Harry Potter was finally, and reluctantly, beginning to understand would never be won. Just another quirk that went along with being The Boy Who Lived, a mere child who Lord Voldemort himself wanted nothing more than to _Avada Kedavra_ right into the cold ground.

Sighing, Harry pulled away from his dismal thoughts and allowed his bright green eyes to drift over to his two most faithful friends, keeping pace before him down the long and drafty halls of Hogwarts. In the past few years Ron had continued his growth spurt, finally stopping a few months ago at a height that topped Percy by a few inches. And even though Harry had finally found his own spurt a few years back, he still managed to fall a few inches below Ron's height - something that Ron never let him live down, especially when Hermione hit her own stride and soon matched his height. Yet those few inches difference managed to add even more humor to the sight before him. For, in a move that defined their relationship, both Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were currently sniping at each other, back and forth over some nonsensical argument that erupted earlier in the day during Professor Lupin's Potions lesson. Harry, wisely, was staying as far away from the argument that he could. What did he care if it truly was Paligan root or Archid weed that went into the difficult potion? He doubted that either Hermione nor Ron cared as well - it was more the fact that if they weren't fighting, then they were doing something else that just couldn't be properly done in public.

Smiling at the thought, Harry hurried forward, catching up to his friends and sliding in between them. "So who's up for a game of wizard's chess after dinner tonight?" he asked, waiting for the explosion that he knew his words would bring.

"Oh no you don't," Hermione quickly uttered, a frown creasing her forehead as her hazel eyes burned him with her gaze. With a frustrated sigh she ran a hand through her long auburn tresses. "You heard Professor McGonagall. We need to be keeping up with our studies, no matter what is going on in the outside world. We cannot let them slide just because-"

"Aw, Hermione, give it a rest!" Ron interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically at Harry. "There are other things to the world than work, work, work," he grumbled good-naturedly as he gently reached out and ruffled her hair. As she pulled away and glared up at him indignantly, Ron suppressed a small laugh, knowing it would only add fuel to the fire. "'Sides, Bill said he'd take on the winner - no Gringotts tonight, he promised."

Shaking his head, Harry allowed himself to drop back from between his friends as a new argument blazed between them. This one, at least, was a little more entertaining to watch. The past few years had been surprisingly kind to them, when compared to what was happening in the rest of the wizarding world. Oh, there were tragedies of course... one in particular, Harry realized, his thoughts turning dark before he forced them away. But all in all, they were together, for the most part, at Hogwarts and taking each day as it came. Sirius had been reluctantly cleared by the Ministry a few years back when Wormtail had been captured and put into Azkaban, thus proving what Harry had been saying for the last few years. After that, it was only a matter of time before Fudge had been booted from the Ministry... an action that came too little, too late. Speaking of which...

"Hey Harry, ain't that Sirius?" Ron asked, interrupting his argument as he pointed to the tall figure that was leaving the Infirmary a few yards ahead of them.

Confused for a moment, Harry merely stared at his godfather's familiar figure before jogging forward, a wave of relief sweeping through his lean frame. "Sirius! Hey, Sirius!" he called out, unable to stop the large smile that lifted his lips as his godfather turned in time to nearly be bowled over by the teen. "You're back!" he cried out, straightening his thin, wire-rimmed glasses as his eyes swept over his godfather's lean frame.

"Harry," Sirius greeted, quickly enveloping the boy in a tight hug before slowly pushing him back, his eyes assuring him, as he did each time he returned from one of Dumbledore's missions, that nothing had gone wrong while he was away. Then, turning, he nodded at the two other teens that had joined their little circle. "Hello Ron, Hermione," he said, smiling softly before turning back to his beloved godson, ruffling his black hair gently. "Where are you three off to?"

"Dinner," Ron responded for the three, watching his best friend as he beamed from beside him. Harry never really talked about it, but Ron knew that it frightened him above all else whenever Sirius would go away and leave the security of the castle behind. Poor Harry himself hadn't been outside of Hogwarts' walls in the last three years. Shortly after the Tri-Wizard tournament and You-Know-Who's resurrection, his friend had been returned to the horrid muggles that Harry was unfortunate enough to call relatives. However, even though You-Know-Who couldn't reach Harry in the house, that didn't save the Dursleys from getting attacked and killed by Death Eaters while away from the unknown protection of their own home. After that, it had quickly been decided that there would be no safe place for Harry Potter, no place safer, than within the walls of Hogwarts. And so Harry had returned to Hogwarts, and had not left again. It just wasn't safe for him, not with You-Know-Who back to full strength and craving Harry's blood. "Mum's been really big on the family dinner thing," Ron added, rolling his eyes at his mother's antics.

"Well, you'll have to send her my apologies, then," Sirius responded with a smile, his blue eyes twinkling. "I'm off to see Remus myself - keep him company and make sure he stays out of trouble," he added with an apologetic frown at his godson.

Sighing, Harry nodded and forced a bright smile for the older man. "Then we'll just have to catch up later," he said, his voice firm and betraying none of his disappointment. "You're not.. you're not leaving again, not soon, are you?" he asked hesitantly, his green eyes troubled despite his best efforts.

"I don't know, Harry," Sirius replied solemnly. "I'm going to talk to Dumbledore tomorrow, and then we'll see. Hagrid's not back yet, is he?"

"No, we haven't seen him," Hermione responded, sending a sympathetic glance to her friend. "But to be honest, we don't even know where he's gone to," she added, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gazed accusingly at the man. "No one has told us anything," she continued, crossing her arms defiantly over her black robes. "Like, for example, where you keep running off to."

Smiling at the girl, Sirius ignored her pointed question and pulled Harry forward once more in a gruff embrace. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised before pulling away and starting off towards the Gryffindor tower, they place they all now resided. "And Hermione, you're too young to worry about stuff like this!" he called out over his shoulder, his eyes dancing as the girl stomped her foot angrily on the stone floor behind him. "You should just worry about all that homework that I'm sure Remus has been piling on you guys!" With that, the tall man quickly disappeared down the dark hall.

Growling in frustration, Hermione spun away and stormed down the halls, her robes flaring out around her slim figure as the boys rushed to keep up with her. "If I hear someone tell me that I'll find out when I'm older _one more time!_" she stormed, eyes blazing. Sighing, she slowed and then turned to glare at her friends. "We're eighteen years old!" she cried, faltering as she sent Harry an apologetic look. "Well, most of us are," she amended before quickly hurrying on. "How much older do we need to get? We're supposed to be graduating from Hogwarts in just a few months!"

"'Mione, you know he's just saying that to get you all excited," Ron cut in gently as he tentatively reached a hand up and casually slung it over one of her shoulders. "'Sides, you know Sirius can't keep a secret for too long. We'll find out what's going on eventually."

Sighing, Hermione slowly nodded her head as she sagged lightly against the taller boy. "I know, you're right," she agreed before straightening and glaring at Harry. "But your godfather has to be the most infuriating man I've ever met!"

"Hasn't everyone been telling us that for years?" Harry countered with a smile as the trio set off once again. They were late and none of them wanted to be on the receiving end of Molly Weasley's wrath.

* * *

Stepping through the open doorway and into the Great Hall beyond, Giles' felt his breath taken away by a scene that was so achingly familiar and different at the same time. The Hall looked as it did during his wizarding days, with bright torches adorning the walls and four long tables spaced alongside each other in the large room. Yet at the same time, it was so very different. The room was still filled with people and the sounds of silverware ringing off of the china still fought to be heard over the din of conversation, yet the tone was all off. This wasn't a Hall filled with close to three hundred young witches and wizards, all sorted into the four different houses of Hogwarts. Instead, the room was filled with an odd assortment of witches and wizards of various ages, from the very young to the very, very old. Families, he realized, the weight of Samuel's words sitting heavier upon his shoulders.

"So these are the people on Moldy-Wart's hit list?" Buffy asked, as though reading her watcher's mind as her eyes skipped over the room from her position beside him. With a frown that mirrored his, her eyes settled on a crooked old man and the small toddler that sat beside him at a nearby table. According to Giles' friend, these families had to abandon their homes and come to Hogwarts in hopes of finding refuge and safety. They had to give up all of their possessions, their houses, to find safety. She could relate to losing everything. To losing so much more. At least they still had each other. Somehow,together, they could make it through this. It was when you lost everything, including those that sheltered and anchored you that the true problems began. Things could be replaced. People could not.

Nodding slightly, Giles found that he couldn't speak over the lump that had formed in his throat. It tore at him to see the state that his beloved world had fallen into. And all because of one man. Of one wizard. Because of the dark arts that he himself had pursued in an act of rebellion against his father. An act that resulted in the immediate death of one friend and the later deaths of the others in their group, leaving only him and Ethan untouched. It was a foolish act that had followed him and reached out, harming those he loved most. Then, hearing a soft gasp beside him, Giles followed Buffy's eyes to the room's ceiling, enchanted to display the starry night outside the castle with the bright, full moon illuminating the large room.

"Wicked," she murmured in appreciation, a small smile lifting her lips.

"Mr. Giles! Miss Summers!"

Scanning the crowd, Giles' gaze settled on the far table, one that in days past had been home to those students sorted into the Gryffindor house. To his amusement, he found one end of the table filled with a smattering of witches and wizards that bore the same startling red hair - two of which were immediately familiar - the older of the two waving them over. Raising a hand in acknowledgement, Giles gently nudged his slayer forward, the two making their way around the edge of the room, all too aware of the curious looks they were attracting.

"What's with all the clown dresses?" Buffy asked quietly as her eyes played over the long robes that everyone wore, noticing that she and Giles were the only ones without some kind of long, heavy robe - some in the most hideous and garish colors. Even the men, especially the older ones, wore the lengths of cloth in addition to unstylish long locks.

"Robes, Buffy, robes," Giles corrected automatically as he continued herding her towards the large table. "People in the wizarding world follow a different fashion code, if you will, than our world," he explained, ignoring the odd looks that he and his Slayer were earning. They really must look a sight, he in a comfortable pair of dark cords and a heavy sweater, and Buffy in a long-sleeve white cotton shirt and a pair of oversized blue jean pants that were secured by two straps over her shoulders, light blonde hair trailing loosely over her small shoulders. "They haven't, thankfully, been afflicted by your generation's need for outlandish garments-"

"And you're calling my outfits outlandish?" Buffy interrupted as they passed a woman dressed in a particularly garish shade of orange with a strange, tall hat perched on top of her graying hair. "Thanks, but no thanks," she muttered with a small frown, eying the strange garments critically. "Pretty sure that those things wouldn't do a thing for my figure."

Sighing, Giles merely shook his head as they neared the large table. "It would have been expecting far too much of you to even entertain the idea of fitting in, wouldn't it?" he asked, realizing that despite his words, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Giles, I'm the only American in a world full of stuffy, tweed-wearing - or rather, robe-wearing - Brits. How exactly did you expect me to fit in?" she asked, arching a slim eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the stares. "And then there's that whole not a wizard, but not quite a muggle thing I got going on," she added, almost as an after thought as Giles finally stopped beside the table. "I mean, can I have a pretty shiny something for being a magical creature? Although not liking the whole creature bit," she added, trailing off as she took in the inhabitants of the table for the first time, blushing slightly as she realized the wizards eyed them curiously.

"Mr. Giles, Miss Summers," Arthur Weasley greeted warmly as he stood from his seat beside Percy. "We were beginning to worry that Professor Dumbledore would keep you all night," he added.

"Oh, it's just Buffy," the small blonde offered as her nose wrinkled at his formality. "Anything else and I automatically think I'm in trouble," she added, green eyes twinkling as she elbowed her watcher beside her. "And you can just call him Giles."

At this, Giles merely sighed good naturedly and nodded his assent. "I have gotten rather accustomed to it over the past few years," he admitted as his eyes skipped over the other people that occupied the table.

Seeing his curious glance, the matronly witch across from Arthur quickly stood and smiled warmly at them. "Please excuse my husband," she said, sending her husband a fierce glare. "I'm afraid that his head isn't quite straight these days," she explained, her eyes sweeping over the two strangers. The man was familiar, but his companion - well, she was definitely a beauty, probably about the same age as her Ron with bright green eyes, a tanned complexion, and pale blonde hair that trailed over her shoulders - although her clothes were strange, to say the least. Not to mention how skinny she was. Clucking her tongue at the thought, she quickly shook her head. "My name is Molly Weasley," she continued, "and as the others have mentioned, you've already met Percy," she said, a frown creasing her features as she gestured to the son that sat at the end of the table beside her husband. He and Arthur had been terribly secretive about the strangers, saying only that they would have to hear it for themselves to believe what brought them to Hogwarts - and even then they may not believe it. Whatever that meant.

Forcing a large smile, she quickly pushed past her questions, for it was terribly impolite to ask, and instead gestured to the tall, red-haired man that sat to her right, his long hair pulled back in a pony tail, a small silver earring dangling from one ear. "This is my eldest son, Bill, Gryffindor class of '92," she introduced before gesturing to the slender redhead sitting on her other side and across from Percy, "and this is my daughter, Ginny, a sixth year here at Hogwarts," she added, the small redhead nodding politely.

"A pleasure," Giles returned evenly, smiling softly from his position at the head of the table, Buffy shifting uncomfortably beside him.

"Won't you join us?" Bill Weasley asked, smiling politely as he nodded to the open spaces across from his position.

"Of course," Giles returned as he moved down the table, stepping over the bench and settling beside Arthur Weasley, Buffy settling on her watcher's other side. And per Hogwarts' tradition, within seconds of taking his seat a shining plate appeared before him with the rest of his cutlery, a gleaming goblet filled with pumpkin juice and a steaming glass of tea alongside.

"Who did that?" Buffy whispered, suspiciously eying the plate filled with a generous portion of roasted chicken and garlic potatoes.

"The House Elves," Giles returned quietly, aware of the man's eyes upon them from opposite their position. From his curious gaze, and the gazes of the others, he quickly realized that the others hadn't yet revealed their identities nor their purposes for being at Hogwarts. Nodding at the young man, he watched as his slayer tentatively lifted her heavy goblet and sniffed at the liquid before quickly placing it back on the table, nose crinkled in disgust. It would be amusing to see how long it took for the group to overcome the rigid British manners and ask the question that was obviously on everyone's mind.

"So what do you do?" Molly asked, her warm hazel eyes betraying a sharp wisdom beneath her matronly exterior. Even though Rupert Giles had graduated two years ahead of her at Hogwarts, there was no mistaking the man in her mind. With a little under three hundred students attending the school each year, close to 70 students per house, it was common to at least know each student by name by year end. When added to the fact that Rupert Giles had been in the top of his class, and definitely top of Ravenclaw, it was assured that everyone had at least known the young man's name... which made it all the more shocking to the school and its students when shortly after his graduation, rumors of his dark dealings reached Hogwarts, followed by the Daily Prophet article that detailed his trial and subsequent banishment from the wizarding world. Sharp eyes taking in the older man beside her husband, his green eyes still so intelligent while his appearance belied a long, labored life, Molly couldn't help but wonder what brought the man and his young companion to Hogwarts.

"After graduation I worked as a curator in a muggle museum here in England before moving to the States four years ago," Giles returned innocently, feeling no need to go into details quite yet. He was so used to keeping his real profession a secret that it was more out of habit than anything else.

"So you've lived with muggles then, all this time?" Arthur asked eagerly from beside Giles, his eyes shining.

"Yes, yes I have," Giles agreed, sending Molly a puzzled glance.

With a sigh, Molly shook her head, a disapproving frown pulling at her lips. "Arthur works for the Ministry of Magic in the office of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts."

"Muggles have always been a sort of hobby for him," Bill added with a knowing wink at his family.

Ignoring both his wife and son, Arthur focused on the man beside him, a grin stretching from ear to ear. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but this has been something that has been plaguing me for months. Tell me, what is the difference between a two-prong plug and a three?"

For a moment, Giles stared at the man blankly before a slow smile lifted his lips. It had been far too long since Giles had been given the opportunity to interact with adults his own age, despite the odd nature of the conversation. But just as he was to answer, he noticed that his slayer didn't seem to be sharing in his luck. The only person who looked even remotely close to her age, the young Weasley girl, was currently seated on the other side of the table at its far end, leaving his slayer quite adrift. Sighing, Giles felt a pang of pity for her, so obviously out of place in the hall, before he himself was swept up into conversation with the man beside him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 7  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel.  
And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you  
can trust them, too - even when you're in the dark. Even when you're falling."**  
-Morrie Schwartz-

"Well, personally I think that you're both being quite foolish," Hermione stated, casting a glance at her two companions as they made their way down the drafty castle corridors. Talk of secret missions and the state of the outside world had quickly, and inevitably, led the trio to discuss the matter that seemed to be a favorite for the boys. "It doesn't matter if Professor Snape is-"

"A stupid greasy git," Ron supplied with a wide grin, a dimple flashing in each cheek.

Frowning at the redhead, Hermione shook her head, long auburn hair billowing around her slender shoulders. "What I was trying to say is that we all know perfectly well that despite his past dealings as a Death Eater, we have it on good authority that he was working as a spy for Dumbledore. He's not _really_ on their side."

"But 'mione," Harry interrupted, his green eyes betraying his doubt as he ran a hand through his messy black hair, "that's what we all thought. But that was _months_ ago! No one has heard from him since the school closed back in October! He could have been playing our side the whole time, really working as a spy for Voldemort," he explained, throwing his friends an apologetic glance as they both winced at the use of the Dark Lord's name.

"But it doesn't make _sense_," Hermione protested as she swept into the Great Hall, her friends flanking her on either side. "Why would he.." she trailed off, frowning softly and stopping so suddenly that Ron plowed into her from behind.

"Ow, bloody hell!" Ron cursed, rubbing a knee that had collided with a nearby table in his haste to avoid landing in a heap on the floor.

"Ron, don't curse," Hermione automatically corrected as her eyes settled on their far table, her brow tightening in confusion. "And it looks as though your family has company," she added, nodding towards the table that the Weasley's had claimed as their own.

Just as the other two boys finally took note of the strangers, a new voice added to their own. "Hello Harry, Hermione," Neville Longbottom greeted before his eyes followed theirs. "Ron, my grandmother has been wondering - d'ya know who the man and the girl is that's sitting with your family? Everyone's been talking about them!"

Frowning, Ron's eyes settled on the unfamiliar strangers - the ones that were dressed so differently than the rest of the people at Hogwarts. "I don't know," he admitted. The man seemed to be engrossed in conversation with his father and eldest brother while the pretty blonde girl, who looked to be about their age, sat alone, apparently lost in thought as she played with the food on the plate before her.

"They're dressed like muggles," Hermione observed thoughtfully, her eyes taking in the girl's white shirt and jean overalls. Frowning, she started forward, her chin held high and the very picture of a woman on a mission. "Well, let's find out," she muttered as she crossed over to the table. As Ron quickly slipped into the open seat beside Bill, directly across from the strange girl, Hermione settled beside him with a swirl of dark robes. "Good evening everyone," she said, nodding down the table. Then, as Harry settled across from her, beside the girl, she slowly turned and eyed the blonde with evident curiosity. "I don't believe that we've been introduced," shestated simply before reaching her hand across the table. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley," Ron added from beside her, smiling innocently as he offered his hand once hers was released.

Knowing what was to come next, Harry turned to the stranger sitting beside him with a small sigh and extended his own hand. Green eyes met green as her gaze ticked up to the lightning shaped scar so prominently displayed on his forehead - red and tender from his connection to Voldemort - before casually dismissing it and meeting his gaze once again. Surprised, Harry shared a look with his friends before adding the final kicker. "And I'm Harry Potter," he finished, waiting for the recognition that always followed... and strangely, didn't.

"Hi, I'm Buffy," she replied simply, her grip firm before she turned and gestured towards the older man who sat beside her, engrossed in conversation with Mr. Weasley. "And that's Giles."

"So you're Yanks, then," Ron broke in, correctly placing the girl's accent as he shrugged his shoulders subtlety at Harry's questioning look. It wasn't every day that Harry didn't get _some_ kind of a reaction to his name or his scar. After all, as much as Harry despised the fact, he _was_ famous in their world. There wasn't a child who didn't grow up hearing stories of The Boy-Who-Lived.

"Well, I am at least," Buffy admitted with a small smile, "although I prefer to go with the term Southern Californian - or American even," she added bemusedly before nodding her head at her watcher. "Giles, on the other hand, is one of yours, I'm afraid - all British and stuffy upper-lippish," she explained with a dramatic sigh. "Thankfully, after four years with us, we've managed to loosen him up a..." she trailed off before she frowned thoughtfully. "And suddenly realizing that the British jokes just aren't that funny when surrounded by a whole lot of British people," she added with a sheepish grin.

Not sure quite how to take the girl's ramblings, Harry took pity on her and quickly changed the subject. "Well what brings you to Hogwarts?" he asked, knowing that it was the question on his friends' minds. As Neville had so obviously pointed out, it wasn't every day that Hogwarts received guests - especially guests that looked as strange as these two. The older man looked ordinary enough for a muggle, with clothing that many muggles in London wore. The girl, on the other hand, had a look that was so strange it immediately caught the eye. For one thing, she was blonde. Not just blonde, but she had pale blonde hair that shone and off-set her green eyes and tanned skin. Which was the second thing. Not only were there few blondes in England, but there were very few tanned blondes in the area at this time of year. The climate just didn't support such things. Then, there was the clothes, so obviously of muggle origin. The fact that she wasn't from around there was all too easily supported. He just had to wonder why they were both dressed as muggles - it wasn't like they were in a muggle community or anything.

"The really old Dumb-Door guy asked us to come," Buffy returned evenly, characteristically slaughtering any name that was at all different from what she was accustomed to, making virtually anyone at Hogwarts fair game. And as the two boys began to snicker at her pronunciation, Buffy couldn't help the small grin. So maybe this whole meeting new people thing wasn't too scary. She had been forced to do it four years ago when she first relocated to Sunnydale, therefore, she could do it again now. Besides, from the look of the room around her, it sure seemed that finding people her own age was going to be kind of difficult, making these three a gift.

Ignoring her friends' snickers at the girl's words, Hermione turned bright eyes on the blonde. "Professor Dumbledore did?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the girl's strange clothing once again. They were just so different than the customary black robes that many youths wore, or compared to any robes that any of the wizarding community wore. "Your father must be a very powerful wizard then, if Dumbledore invited you all the way from the United States to help us."

"My father?" Buffy returned, frowning in confusion as she thought of the man she hadn't seen in longer than she could remember - definitely not since everything... But before her mind could venture down _that_ track, Buffy's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, Giles isn't my dad," she countered, all the while mentally adding that her real father wasn't more than a sperm donor in her mind, these days. In all ways that mattered, Giles might as well have been her father. "Plus, we're not really big in the whole witchy thing," she added.

"You're muggles then!" Hermione stated, as though Buffy had merely confirmed something that she had been thinking all along. As the girl arched a blonde brow at her, Hermione quickly explained. "Well, I didn't think that American witches would dress _that_ differently from us," she said, waving offhandedly at Buffy's clothes, "and more importantly, you didn't stare at Harry's scar."

Confused, Buffy turned her head and took in the scar that marred the guy's forehead beside her, watching as his face flushed under her scrutiny, before turning once more back to the girl opposite her. "Yep, that's a scar - got a few myself," she revealed conspiratorially before straightening. "And why would I stare?" she added, before the girl could respond, "In the United States we call that whole staring thing rude."

"But-" Hermione sputtered, her own face flushing at the girl's words.

"But Harry's the Boy-Who-Lived!" Ron added, his voice indignant as Harry groaned audibly and slouched further in his seat.

"The boy who lived?" Buffy returned skeptically, her eyes turning to take in the guy beside her. Average height, slender, messy black hair, glasses, ouchy-looking scar - certainly nothing remarkable there. But then, as she really took in the guy with all of her senses, she felt her slayer sense, her spider sense, as Xander liked to call it, begin to tingle. The guy felt... different. Well, everyone in the room felt kind of different, being all witchy and magical and all, but just as Dumbledore had felt kind of off, so did this Harry Potter. The feeling was almost like power, but not. Shrugging slightly, she slowly turned away and looked at the other two once again. "Okay, excuse my confusion here," she said, getting back to their earlier statement, "but is he the Boy Who Lived because he died and then, well, lived again or because he keeps living? Because if gets a special title because of the second, well... what, do you want a cookie or something for living like the rest of us?" she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "I mean, geez! I technically died three years ago and you don't see anybody calling me The Girl Who Died... and er... then Lived Again," she finished, her scowl turning into a small smile at the ridiculousness of the conversation.

"But Harry defeated You-Know-Who when he was just a baby!" Hermione countered, looking to her friends for help.

At the girl's words, Buffy turned bright green eyes to Harry, understanding finally crossing her features. "Hey, wait a sec!" she muttered, a slow smile lifting her lips. "Yeah, I have heard about you," she confirmed, nodding her head as she looked at him with a new light. She'd have to ask Giles about him later. Whatever she felt most likely had to do with what happened to him as a baby. With whatever happened to give him the painful looking scar that he still bore. "Hey, great job on pulling a baby Bam-Bam on the Moldy-Wart guy! I'm hoping to kick his ass before going home," she added as she threw a brief glance to her watcher.

"Baby Bam-Bam?" Ron asked, voicing everyone's confusion as they looked at the girl much the same way she had been looking at them. "Moldy Wart?"

"Oooh, my bad," Buffy countered with a slight grin. "Moldy Wart seems a fitting name for your Big Bad and the other, well, pop culture reference," she explained with a small shrug. "But from the looks of things, you guys don't have a lot of that pop culture thing going on. But that's okay, Giles never gets them either," she added sympathetically as she nodded to her watcher, oblivious to their conversation. "Although without a Xander or a Willow to get my witty repartee... well, that makes them a whole lot less witty," she added to herself with a small frown. Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders before turning back to the confused teens. "I guess that you guys will just have to take my word that they're usually quite funny."

"Er... right," Harry said, nodding weakly at Buffy before slowly turning back to his friends. He knew that he had lived a sheltered life, but he had no idea that American English was _that_ different than British English. He felt as though she was speaking a completely different language at times.

As the confused hush fell over the group, Buffy felt her forced cheer slowly begin to slip. Desperate to hold onto it as she realized that was what was giving her the confidence to face this strange world, Buffy quickly pushed on. "So, Ron, I get that those are your parents over there," she said, breaking the silence as she nodded towards the assortment of redheads to her left, "but what's the story with you two?"

"Oh, Sirius Black is my godfather," Harry explained, silently wishing him and Remus well. "He's my guardian," he added, beaming at the words. "He and Professor Lupin were best friends with my parents - they look after me," he added.

Wincing at the words, Buffy felt her cheeks stain with the reminder of her earlier actions. "Heh... well, when you talk to him later, just remember that it was his fault. He really did start it," she explained weakly before turning bright eyes to Hermione. "And where's your family?"

"South Africa, actually," Hermione stated, pushing a wave of long auburn hair over one shoulder. "My parents are dentists and South Africa is notorious for their poor dental practices."

"And so they just decided to head to South Africa?" Buffy returned, frowning at the girl's words.

"Well, no, of course not," Hermione countered. "They left because of You-Know-Who," she explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. But when Buffy continued to stare at her as though she were really some strange sort of creature, she quickly continued. "Since You-Know-Who has risen, he has begun taking out all muggle-born witches and wizards. Thus, pretty much all muggle-born witches and wizards and their families have left the country. I can't protect my family against Death Eaters, and they couldn't very well come to Hogwarts, so they've gone away until... well, until things are better," Hermione explained, faltering slightly as she wondered, not for the first time, if she'd ever see her parents again.

"So... if things are so dangerous for 'muggle-born' witches and wizards, why didn't you go with your parents?" Buffy asked slowly, eying the bright girl that sat opposite of her.

"And leave Ron and Harry to get into trouble by themselves?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at the girl before turning to the two guys with a knowing look. "If I weren't here, who would be the one to be clever and get them out of the scrapes they always find their way into?"

"Oh, come off it 'mione," Ron quickly countered as he rolled his eyes dramatically at the blonde. "Clever or not, don't act like you never get into any trouble on your own. After all, I believe that _you're_ the one who was petrified by the basilisk in our second year. Not us."

"What?" Hermione squeaked as she shoved the taller teen off the bench. "If you two would have been a little bit quicker with finding my notes that practically spelled out what the danger was..."

Smiling at the two friends' bickering and at the obvious affection between the three, Buffy couldn't help the wave of nostalgia that burned through her veins like fire. Well, not exactly like fire. She had tried that one before, unwillingly, and had no desire to do a repeat performance. Plus, her bout of homesickness for her friends wasn't even in the same arena as the tortures that... damn, and down that route we go again. Sighing softly, Buffy turned away from the two friends and realized that Harry was watching her - probably had been for a few minutes. Flushing slightly, she allowed her eyes to meet his, challenging him to voice his thoughts.

"So why did Dumbledore invite two muggles all the way from the United States to Hogwarts?" he asked, his eyes watching hers intently.

"Hmm," Buffy murmured, as though she were contemplating his question, one slim finger tapping against her chin. "Now, I never did say that we were muggles, did I?"

"But if you're not muggles, and you're not wizards," Ron said, finishing his argument in time to overhear Buffy's words, "then what are you?"

"Well, I don't know what you guys call ex-Wizards, but my friends and I call Giles a Watcher," she said, watching as Hermione started, her eyes growing wide as she turned to look at her watcher with undisguised interest. Then, as her eyes returned to hers, Buffy knew that she, at least, understood the reference. "And as for myself," Buffy began before throwing a pout to Giles' back, "I knew that I needed a shiny some-"

"Mr. Giles? Miss Summers?"

Startled from his conversation, Giles mimicked his slayer and turned to take in the severe-looking woman who stood behind them. "Professor McGonagall," Giles returned, smiling slightly as he stood from the table and shook the aging witch's hand. The woman who stood before him wasn't quite the young witch that he remembered as his Transfiguration professor, but there was no mistaking her, despite the added lines and wrinkles. Especially that voice. "It's good to see you again."

"And you as well," McGonagall replied, a small smile lifting the corners of her thin lips as she eyed the man that her student had become. "I see that you've managed to keep yourself out of trouble through the years."

"For the most part," Giles agreed with a small smile, sharing a look with his young slayer who watched with undisguised interest.

"And from what Albus has told me, you've done very well with yourself," McGonagall added, her eyes shifting to take in the young woman who had been mid-conversation with three of Hogwarts' most notorious students. "We always knew that you would," she added, eyes returning to Giles before turning to nod at the rest of the gathered witches and wizards who watched the exchange curiously. "If you'll excuse the interruption, Professor Dumbledore asked me to see our guests to their rooms," she said, nodding politely to Arthur and Molly Weasley before frowning disapprovingly at young Harry Potter. "And he also asked that you, Mr. Potter, tell your godfather the next time you see him to come to his office immediately."

"That most likely won't be until tomorrow," Harry returned quickly with a brief nod at the bright moon shining overhead, "but I will pass along the message."

"See that you do," McGonagall muttered, her lips forming a thin line before she gestured for Giles and Buffy to follow her from the hall. "This way, please," she instructed, quickly leading the two from the hall, a loud din of speculating conversation flowing in their wake, everyone no doubt curious about the identity of the castle's newest inhabitants. Then again, from the look in Granger's eyes, McGonagall knew that their real purpose would be spread throughout the Great Hall by the end of dinner.


	8. Chapter 8

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 8  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Maybe death is the great equalizer, the one big thing  
that can finally make strangers shed a tear for one another."**  
-Morrie Schwartz-

As Professor McGonagall led the two away, Hermione could only stare after them with wide eyes, her jaw hanging slack as conversation erupted around them. "I can't believe it," she murmured, her eyes locked on Buffy's back until she disappeared from sight. "I can't believe it," she repeated, her mind buzzing with unasked questions as she turned wide eyes back to her two closest friends.

"Can't believe what?" Ron asked as he began to dig into the plate of food that sat before him, obviously completely unaffected by whatever epiphany had struck his friend.

"I can't believe that Dumbledore somehow managed to get a Slayer to Hogwarts," she muttered, her words soft yet carrying just enough to reach everyone at their table. Instantly, a hush fell over the gathered witches and wizards as everyone turned to the bright young woman, some with surprise, others with understanding, and many with confusion.

Seeing this, Ron cleared his throat nervously before arching a brow at Harry. At his friend's confused shrug, Ron felt a bit of relief. At least he wasn't the only clueless, and from the expression on Ginny's face, she had no idea as well. "Um... what's a slayer?" he asked, knowing that he was opening himself up for a tirade, but unwilling to be left in the dark.

Sighing, Hermione shook her head before glaring at the redhead beside her. "Don't you _ever_ pay attention in class?" she asked crossly before turning her attention back to the others gathered at the table. "Hagrid mentioned that he was going to cover Slayers in our Care of Magical Creatures class," she explained quickly. "He only mentioned the slayer in passing, but I did some further reading on the subject-"

"Of _course_ you did," Ron groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically as Hermione glared at him.

"So what did you learn?" Harry asked before another argument could get under way.

"A Slayer is a very rare magical creature," Hermione stated, her eyes brightening considerably. "So rare, in fact, that there is only ever one slayer at a time. You see, according to the text that I read, a slayer is called The Chosen One - one muggle girl who is suddenly transferred a very powerful, deep magic when she is called - usually in her mid teens. This magic is supposed to be very old and very different than wizarding magic, and it gives her amazing strength, speed, and healing capabilities."

"And you're saying that Buffy is a slayer?" Harry asked skeptically, his mind trying to handle the concept of the petite girl he had just met containing such power. With a frown and small shake of his head, Harry tried to banish the absurd thought as it seemed highly unlikely.

"It all fits," Hermione insisted stubbornly, arms crossed over her chest. "She said herself that her companion, Giles, was her Watcher. The book explained that each slayer is a warrior that is created to fight other dangerous magical creatures, like vampires and demons. Long ago muggles and wizards created the Watcher's Council," she stated, sharing a brief nod with the older Weasleys. "This Council was created to find and train potential slayers and to guide a slayer once she's been activated," she stated firmly, a small frown pulling at her lips. "It stated over and over again how once a slayer dies, the magic is somehow transferred to the new slayer, and that this muggle is the one girl that can protect the world and restore the balance between Good and Evil."

As another thick silence fell over the table, Molly turned to her husband with a small frown. She had heard of the Watcher's Council, but had never really given much thought to talk of the Slayer - no more than she gave thought to other magical creatures that she never encountered, such as the fabled basilisk that attacked the school all those years ago. But, as in the case of the basilisk, when brought face to face with the legend.. well, it certainly put things in a different light. "And you knew about this?" she asked, her lips forming a disapproving frown as she glared at both her husband and middle child.

"We did have the misfortune of getting on the wrong end of the slayer at the gates to Hogwarts," Arthur admitted with a timid shrug, turning away from his wife's angry look. He probably should have told her earlier, but their confusion and the looks on their faces when the truth was revealed was too much to pass on. Even if it did mean that he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Another thing that Hermione didn't mention," Percy added eagerly, obviously quite pleased to know something that the younger girl didn't, "is that she also seems impervious to our magic." Smiling smugly, he turned his attention back to his plate before another grin lifted his lips. "Sirius tried to curse her and she ended up sending him to the infirmary with two broken ribs."

"She what?" Harry cried, straightening as he realized that he hadn't even questioned the fact that he had run into Sirius right outside the doors to the infirmary. He must have just finished getting his ribs mended when they stumbled upon each other. And then, with a quick shake of his head, he remembered Buffy's earlier words - her protests that Sirius had started their confrontation. He hadn't thought twice about it earlier, but now it all made sense.

"It was a misunderstanding," Arthur cut in, glaring at his son before smiling gently at Harry, misinterpreting his silence for anger. "It seems that Buffy is rather... protective of Giles-"

"Protective seems to be putting it mildly," Percy rebuffed, scowling at his father. "She nearly killed me!"

"And what did you do to her watcher?" Bill broke in, eyes boring into his younger brother.

For a moment, Percy floundered beneath his older brother's gaze before he finally turned his eyes back to his dinner. "I stupefied him," he muttered, earning a round of snickering from his siblings.

Clucking her tongue, Molly glared at her children until silence reigned once more at their table. "Poor girl," she finally stated, her tone clipped. "That's no life to lead for one so young. I can't even imagine what the poor girl's parents are going through right now," she added, shaking her head curtly. While she knew that the children were probably only thinking of the power that went with the slayer, she found her heart focusing on the part that went unspoken. The greatest tragedy of being the Chosen One.

As if reading her mind, Hermione's somber words quieted the group. "The text stated that most slayers who are called never last longer than a year or two before they're killed."

Sighing softly, Molly closed her eyes, the words touching too close to home. It wasn't difficult for her to imagine the pain that the girl's parents would feel when their daughter returned to them, broken and still. It wasn't difficult at all and that was the most painful thing. And for them, the end wouldn't come quick enough. Instead, from the moment that they learned of their daughter's destiny, the poor girl's parents were faced with the knowledge that each night she went out to fight, that night could very well be her last. It was a very, very slow death and sometimes Molly couldn't help but think that that was the worst kind of all.

"I... I wonder how long she's been a slayer," Ginny murmured, breaking the thick silence as her beautiful eyes lifted to meet her mother's. From the way her eyes sparkled, Molly knew that her daughter had been thinking along the same lines as her. "She can't be that much older than us."

"I don't know, Ginny dear, I don't know," Molly murmured, absently patting her daughter's hand beside her.

Watching this exchange, Ron frowned thoughtfully, finally turning away from his family and noticing his best friend for the first time. Harry wore a haunted expression that was all too easy for Ron to recognize. It was the look that he wore whenever he thought about his parents, or Cedric Diggory... or about losing any of them to You-Know-Who. Harry tried to hide it and pretend as though it was nothing, but Ron knew that Harry had never forgotten or gotten over any of these incidents. He even mourned the deaths of his muggle relatives that had hated him so much for so long. In a way, Ron supposed that Harry felt everyone's pain and somehow always connected everything back to him. If a random witch or wizard disappeared, Harry automatically attributed the disappearance to You-Know-Who, and to himself in turn. As he was so fond of pointing out, it was his blood that raised the Dark Lord. His blood that made him strong once more. "You alright?" he asked quietly, breaking his friend from his quiet musings.

Torn away from his dark thoughts, Harry met Ron's eyes and saw the concern there. "I'm fine," he said, shrugging his friend's worries away as he slowly pushed away from the table. "Listen, I'm going to head back to the common room and get started on the Potions homework," he said, announcing his plans to the others before turning and making his way from the bustling hall.

Concerned, Ron watched him go for just a moment before quickly shoving back and hurrying after his friend. "See you later, Hermione!" he called over his shoulder before disappearing from the room.

* * *

With an audible click, the large portrait swung open, revealing a brightly lit room beyond the dark hallway. Bustling her heavy skirts around her, Professor McGonagall stepped over the frame and swept into the chamber, her small eyes taking in the room with satisfaction. It was a guest suite located in the main part of the castle on the fourth floor, and from appearances, it seemed that Albus had chosen well.

The painting that guarded the entrance to the suite was an old portrait of a young girl child, younger than any child that had ever attended Hogwarts, with red tresses that were coiffed around small shoulders. Her smile was innocent and sweet, and the muttered password opened the painting to reveal a large room within, made warm and comforting with heavy rugs on the floors and faded tapestries on the walls. The room felt divided with a roaring fireplace to the right, an old couch and two arm chairs flanking the warm setting. To the left sat a large desk against one wall, book shelves adorning all other wall space while a large table with two chairs sat against the far wall, bright moonlight spilling over the scene from the three large windows towering opposite the door.

"I trust that you will find everything in order," she stated primly, hands clasped before her as both Mr. Giles and Miss Summers joined her in the room. "The house elves have already placed your bags in your rooms, which are located behind those doors," she said, indicating the heavy-set oak doors off to each side of the room with a wave, "and you have a private bath located over there," she finished, indicating the last doorway that sat to the right on the other side of the fireplace.

"Thank you, Professor," Giles murmured, eyes sweeping appreciatively over the shelves that were already partially filled with ancient texts and scrolls. "I'm sure that everything will be quite alright," he added as he absently started towards the shelving.

"Goodnight, then," McGonagall said before taking her leave, allowing the two to explore the rooms to their liking. A fact that Buffy quickly took advantage of.

Curious despite herself, the petite slayer bypassed the bookshelves and headed straight for the bedroom on the left, her eyes skipping over the room that contained a massive bed and a large desk, the tapestries done in a deep forest green and brightly lit by a few torches that burned on the walls. Eyeing the room, Buffy shrugged noncommittally before turning and moving across the common room. First she opened the door to the right of the fireplace, checking out the ancient fixtures and grimacing at the old claw foot tub that adorned the bathroom. "No shower," she muttered, obviously disappointed but just grateful that there at least seemed to be indoor plumbing. Shrugging lightly she quickly threw open the door to the left of the fireplace and froze at the sight laid out before her.

The room was a little smaller than the one across the way, but what it lacked in size it quickly made up in decor with two wide windows casting a silver glow on the chamber. Once more a large bed graced the opposite wall, this one richly adorned in the vibrant blue of the sky on a cloudless summer day. With a smile Buffy slowly crossed into the chamber and dropped back onto the bed, feeling the feather comforter adjust around her slim form as her eyes looked up into what seemed to be a summer sky up above, matching blue drapes surrounding the frame. It was beautiful.

Smiling contentedly, she allowed herself to drift amongst the clouds for a few moments before she forced herself to abandon the large bed. She had to admit that the thought of having a bed that she could call her own was tempting. It had been so long... Sighing, Buffy forced the thoughts away as she finally took note of the rest of the room. Large armoire already filled with her meager belongings, small desk, large windows... Frowning, Buffy moved until she was standing before one of the tall windows, her gaze drifting past the sweeping grounds and towards the dark woods that loomed beyond. It was as if their dark depths were calling to her. Calling her to join them in the darkness where she belonged.

"Are you aright?"

Startled, Buffy felt her muscles tighten before she forced herself to relax, her green eyes sliding over to her watcher's concerned countenance. She hadn't even heard him approach - didn't even know how long she had been standing there, her breath fogging the glass before her as she became lost in the dark woods beyond. "Everything feels weird here," she admitted, eyes sweeping over the darkness beyond the thick walls of Hogwarts.

"Your senses are most likely picking up the strong magics that surround this place," Giles explained as his gaze joined hers, taking in the dark night beyond the windows.

"Probably," Buffy agreed, shrugging slightly. "But it's not just the place. It's the people too," she admitted with a frown, concentrating on putting her feelings into words. "Everyone feels a bit different here... kind of the way that you've always felt to me," she explained, green eyes meeting his once more. "I always thought it was just the way you are because you're a watcher, but it must have been your magic I felt. Everyone just feels kind of... off," she murmured, her eyes narrowing. "But the old guy and Harry - now they _really_ feel off," she added.

Intrigued, Giles slowly turned and leaned against the cold stone wall, his hands slipping his glasses from their perch and polishing them absently on the hem of his sweater. "I would imagine," he began, "that Dumbledore would feel different to you because he's a very, very powerful wizard." Sighing softly, he slowly replaced his glasses as his slayer turned towards him. "However, as for Harry-"

"It has something to do with the dark creep no one wants to talk about," Buffy interrupted, her tone sure as she frowned softly. "It's like I can feel power from Harry, but not. Like he doesn't know it's there, or something... like it's buried. But it has to be because of what happened when he was little," she continued, her voice growing stronger. "Because it feels all dark and twisted," she murmured, nose crinkling slightly as Giles' lips dipped further into a questioning frown. Sighing, Buffy's eyes drifted back to the dark wood that beckoned her, her thoughts threatening to ensnare her before she quickly pushed her musings away, forcing a bright grin for her watcher. "And so says the girl who just recently got her brain put back right," she quipped, her tone self-depreciating as she slipped away from him, snagging the large duffel as she went and depositing it on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Giles asked as she began to rummage through the bag before her, pulling out the occasional weapon and tossing it haphazardly on the blue comforter.

"Well, I might as well get down to doing what I was brought here for," Buffy returned absently. "You know, a glorified games keeper," she added with a small smile, lifting her head briefly before quickly returning to her perusal of the bag.

Sighing, Giles abandoned his position by the window and moved until he was staring down at his slayer's bowed head. "Buffy, you _are_ needed here," he murmured as he gently laid a hand on her small shoulder, wishing that she would share even a fraction of what was going through her mind, whether it was the simple fact of missing her friends in this strange place or... or something darker.

For a moment, Buffy took comfort in that simple gesture before she shrugged his hand away. "I'm gonna check out this forest of theirs," she murmured as she selected a long sword and a crossbow. "I'm getting a bit antsy and want to go kill something. 'Sides," she added with a small grin, "it's still early our time."

Smiling slightly, Giles nodded his agreement as he pulled a large axe from the bag and propped it on one shoulder. "We might as well," he agreed as he moved into the next room, grabbing his jacket and slipping into the heavy fabric.

"Hold up," Buffy protested as she followed her watcher, a hard frown pulling at her lips. "Who invited you?"

"I'm your Watcher," Giles cut in, his tone abrupt as he dared her to argue further. "I don't need an invitation. Besides, you're not on the Hellmouth any longer," he added, smiling to soften his words. "You're likely to encounter creatures unlike anything that you've ever seen before. You need me along."

Sighing dramatically, Buffy made a big show of considering his words before finally nodding her acceptance. "Alright, but don't whine to me if you get bored later," she stated as she slipped the sword into a sheath and draped the strap over one shoulder, adjusting it until it was comfortable before doing likewise with the crossbow.

"I'll do my best to refrain from all fits of whining," Giles deadpanned as he returned to her room and exited a second later with a small dart gun, tossing it to his slayer. "In case we encounter something that should be sleeping instead of dead," he said, answering her unasked question. "After all, not all dangerous creatures should be slayed in those woods. Merely those that don't belong and that could be swayed to Voldemort's side."

"Hey, you're the boss," Buffy sighed, trying to find a good way to carry the weapon as she made her way to the portrait door, stopping only when she realized that her watcher wasn't following. "There a reason you're not coming? I mean, I thought we already went over this."

"Are you telling me you forgot about the cold already? After all of your earlier complaining?" Giles asked, pointedly looking at her thin shirt - hardly the clothing needed for such a cold night.

Grimacing, Buffy slowly took in her own clothing once again. "Well you see, there's a slight problem with that," she said with a weak grin. "Someone forgot to mention that England is freaking cold and I left my heavy coat back in the downstairs closet at the apartment," she admitted as she glared pointedly at her warmly dressed watcher. What she didn't mention was the fact that she was actually quite accustomed to being cold. Having spent five months enclosed in a small concrete prison far beneath the earth's surface with no heat and wearing only a thin tank top and pants - well, she either had to adjust to the cold or die. And while at times she hoped for the latter, she adapted instead.

Sighing, Giles shook his head as he turned and went back into her bedroom. "I'll see that the others add your coat to the shipment containing the rest of my personal belongings," his muffled voice said, filtering through the door before he returned a few moments later, a heavy black cloak in hand.

Eyeing the long lengths of material, Buffy turned wide eyes to her watcher. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, firmly crossing her arms across her chest, one hip cocked to the side in the perfect pose of defiance.

"Either you wear the cloak or you're not going out, and that's final," Giles said, trying his best to look as stern as possible - and failing miserably as Buffy arched a slim brow at him.

"You're not my dad," Buffy countered, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "You can't tell me what to do."

Shaking his head wryly, Giles tossed her the cloak, his slayer catching it effortlessly in her small hands. "I doubt that even your father would be able to tell you what to do," he retorted as she held the soft material in her hands, fingering the silver clasp. "However," he added as he began helping her to remove the straps of weapons from her shoulders, "I _am_ your watcher, therefore yes, I can tell you what to do."

Sighing dramatically, Buffy ditched the rest of her weaponry before caping the heavy material around her shoulders, admiring the way the cloak fell down to the floor, trailing right above ground level, secured by the small silver clasp. Even though she would never admit it, the idea of wearing such a different piece of clothing was fun - like playing dress-up or something. She kind of felt like she was back in the really olden days - like the time of Giles' childhood or something. Smirking at the thought, Buffy shifted the sword and crossbow straps until they were resting over top, within easy grabbing distance should they be needed. "Well, let's do this," she said, a grin lifting her lips at the thought of what was to come.


	9. Chapter 9

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 9  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**After all, there's a reason they say that love is a two-edged sword,  
Because love is sharp, it pierces, and love is a needle that sews shut  
The holes in our hearts - that mends our soul -  
But it can also cut, cut deep, wound, kill."**  
-Dean Koontz-

With a soft sigh, Harry absently rubbed his aching scar as he settled on a window seat, leaning forward and allowing the burning skin to rest against the cool glass. Ever since Voldemort had used Harry's blood to resurrect him and return him to full strength, the unwanted bond between them had intensified - both a blessing and a curse. Harry would never have warning as to when the connection would be made - usually only when Voldemort was angered to the point of being in a rage. One moment he would be fast asleep, or even mid-conversation, and the next it was like he was transported to Voldemort's side, watching through unseen eyes for what could amount to seconds, other times hours. The link would always be severed when the pain became too much. Oh yeah... did he mention the intense pain that went with this... connection?

He hesitated to use the word vision simply because of the relation that would provide to Professor Trelawney - the woman who had managed to predict his death consecutively every year since he first began taking her class. His connection and ensuing 'fits' would always land him in the Infirmary for the night as well as earn him the occasional odd and suspicious look from his fellow classmates. Then again, the pain and the stares were worth it as long as it kept providing Dumbledore with some inside information that no one else could provide - especially since Snape's disappearance. They had no one on the other side, feeding them desperately-needed information as to who Voldemort would target next. He wouldn't always learn something useful... but those rare occasions when someone was helped because of it. Well, it made it all worthwhile... except for the one time when he was made to witness something he wished he could have done without. That was just one of those things that they didn't talk about. And to be honest, he had almost become used to the constant ache that he felt in the lightning shaped scar - excepting for the times when it would explode in agony and send him to the floor in seconds flat. But hey, such was life for the Boy-Who-Lived.

Smiling softly, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of one of the newest additions to Hogwarts' corridors with that thought. Buffy Summers. The Slayer. The Chosen One. A lot of titles for one so young - even more than he had accumulated. Then again, for what she did, she deserved some recognition. Fighting evil night after night to make the world a safer place. Risking herself every single night for those who didn't even know that evil existed. That didn't even know that _she_ existed. It was a thankless job, but she seemed to have accepted that as her role. It was a feeling that he could relate to. After all, in every respect that Harry could see, he was just an average, normal wizarding boy... well, rather a teen, now. Almost a man. Yet the fact remained that he was so _ordinary_. Okay, so yes, he did have a rather nasty habit for finding trouble, but with his friends' help and a whole lot of luck, they always found their way out in the end. He wasn't remarkable for having defeated Lord Voldemort when he was just a baby for his defeat was his mother's doing, and all her doing. It was her love for him and her sacrifice so that he may live that saved his life that day and which transformed Voldemort into nothing more than a ravaged spirit. Nonetheless, the entire wizarding world looked at him with an awe that was akin to Dumbledore, somehow believing that Harry could save the day once more and banish Voldemort - this time forever. After all, if his blood could give rise to him once more, surely he could figure a way to stop him. Too bad that all Harry had ever wanted was just to be a normal kid with his normal friends. It seemed now that he would never get that chance. Just as Buffy Summers had her chance for normalcy ripped away the moment that she was called. They had a lot in common, he and the new American girl. Maybe too much.

_BANG!_

Startled, Harry turned and watched as one of Ron's knights viciously turned on one of his older brother's rooks, smashing him into pieces. It seemed that Ron was winning - again. Once the school had closed its doors to the public and scared families began moving in, Hogwarts had become a refuge to those targeted by Lord Voldemort. These families were then given various rooms, suites, and towers to be made their own until they no longer needed them. In the case of Harry and his friends, they had, predictably, been given the Gryffindor Tower. He, Ron, and Neville still shared their 7th year dorm while Ginny and Hermione had become roommates in the girl's dormitory. Likewise, Sirius and Remus shared a room in the boy's tower as well as Percy and Bill while Molly and Arthur shared the prefect suite.

Out of two hundred and eighty students, only twelve now remained at Hogwarts: six Gryffindors, four Ravenclaws, and two Hufflepuffs. Not that the remainder of the students were bad or anything, even in the cases of the Slytherins. Instead, about a quarter of those students were muggle-borns that fled the country with their families. The rest, while perhaps working against Voldemort behind the scenes, hadn't announced their sides publicly, allowing them the freedom of living beyond Hogwarts' protective gate. Sometimes, those that _were_ sequestered in the castle weren't even those that were actively working against the Dark Lord - like the Longbottoms, for example. However, seeing as how Neville's parents were aurors and victims of the Dark Lord... well, it was easy to see why his Grandmother would relocate the family to Hogwarts. In times like these, to do otherwise was simply foolish. At least Harry and the others had the good fortune of having the remainder of the Longbottoms staying in other parts of the castle - leaving the tower just to themselves.

Despite the earlier dinner excitement, things had quickly settled down into the familiar routine followed by the group each night. Once more everyone was gathered in the common room, Molly sitting before the fire, darning one piece of clothing or another, Arthur and Percy at one of the tables working on Ministry papers, Hermione and Ginny working on their homework at another table, and Ron and Bill playing wizard's chess to the death. It was a comfortable routine - one that helped to block out the noise, pain, and uncertainty of the outside world. For a time they could settle into this familiarity and forget about the horrors that were taking place outside of the castle walls. It was nice, even if it _was_ only for a short time.

Sighing softly, Harry turned his face back towards the frosted glass, his eyes trailing over the dark night beyond. Sometimes the feeling of claustrophobia was almost too much to bear. It had been years since he had been allowed off of the castle grounds, and to ensure that he didn't try to stray, Sirius had confiscated both the Marauder's map and his invisibility cloak. It had angered him at the time, still did occasionally, even though he understood why he did it. Sirius was his godfather and he was just trying to look after him - to protect him. But after the many years Sirius had spent as a prisoner in Azkaban, couldn't he understand this torment? In his worst moments, Harry had to remind himself of the times he was forced to sit in his darkened cupboard beneath the stairs at the Dursleys. Compared to that little hole, his new prison felt quite roomy. He felt lucky in those moments. Other times he just felt bitter about yet another thing that made him the freak known as the Boy-Who-Lived. At least this time he wasn't alone in his prison. He wasn't the only one who was forbidden to leave the castle. Although from the looks of it, Buffy Summers, at least, was spared of that sentence.

Leaning forward, Harry pressed his face against the window, cupping his hands around his glasses as he watched the two small figures move away from the castle and towards the dark depths of the Forbidden Forest. It seemed that the Slayer and her Watcher were wasting no time in doing what the Slayer was meant to do. Sighing softly, he couldn't help but think back once more on the cold facts that Hermione had detailed on the Slayer. The Chosen one. Everyone in her world expected this small girl to give up everything that she loved so that she could risk herself night after night to save their world. He wondered how much she had already given up to this cruel thing some called destiny.

They did indeed have much in common, he realized, and he couldn't help but wonder how Buffy dealt with the thought that she would never grow old and have children of her own. That she'd never get a chance to fulfill her dreams. He wondered if maybe, like him, Buffy had changed her dreams to simply living a day longer and making the most of each day that came their way.

* * *

Sighing softly, Buffy slowly leaned her forehead against the cool glass, unknowingly mimicking the actions of one Harry Potter scant hours earlier. As her breath fogged against the glass, she felt her mind begin to wander. Her watch, last she checked, said that it was eight pm, which, if her calculations were correct, meant that it was only four in the morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The witching hours, she realized idly, an amused smile lifting her lips. If she were back in Sunnydale she would just be prepping to go out on patrol with Faith... tonight Faith would be going alone, as she would from there on in. Just as Buffy was bound to do, sooner rather than later.

The night had been a waste in Buffy's eyes, the dark woods as forbidding as their namesake, yet hiding nothing more threatening than a few vampires. Vampires. Buffy had laughed at that. After all of Giles' big talk about these dangerous and unknown creatures that lurked in the forest's depths - creature that were unlike anything she had ever seen on the Hellmouth... well, she hadn't exactly let him down easy when the worst that they had encountered were vampires. Oh yeah, like they don't have _those_ on the Hellmouth. And they hadn't even been that difficult to dust. Apparently, these forest-y vamps had nothing on the ones that the Hellmouth dished out. They hadn't even been out for very long when Giles had insisted that they end patrol early that night and return to the castle. His excuse had been viable, that they should both try and get some sleep and attempt to adjust to the time difference, yet she found herself unable to do as he asked. While Giles was snoring away in the other room, Buffy found sleep evading her. Perhaps she was already adjusted to the time difference for she was never able to sleep come this time in the morning. It was at these hours that the memories plagued her the most - when the rest of the world was dead and asleep and she was all alone with the past...

Sighing once more, her breath fogging the glass before her, Buffy felt the cold seep through her bones through the cold brick - a cold that was so familiar that it was frightening. Some days, she wondered if she'd ever feel warm again. Even when layered in clothing and heaped with blankets, it seemed that the cold never really went away. Like it was there to stay. In that regard, Buffy had so been looking forward to the warm California sun that summer would bring, even though secretly she feared that not even that would be enough. But here in the dark, drafty castle... the cold wouldn't be leaving her here. If ever.

She wondered if Xander and Willow would be accompanying Faith on patrol that night. The three had become closer in the months since.. well, since everything. They were adapting and adapting well. She wished they were here. It was lonely here.. lonely, cold, and dark. And so strange. Then again, the people were nice, once you got past that whole threatening their lives bit. They were warm and comfortable here, with each other and those around them. They had a family. They belonged. Smiling softly, Buffy thought back to Molly Weasley and the love that shown in her eyes for all of the children that sat at the table with them - even those that weren't her own. She seemed like a good woman... like a good mother.

As tears burned at her eyes, Buffy couldn't help but wish that, for the thousandth time, her mother was there with her right now. All she needed was to hear her voice one more time. To feel her hand on her head. There were so many things that she would have done differently that last time if she could do it over again. So many things. Then again, Buffy knew that if she had those last few moments and could do only one thing differently... she wouldn't say goodbye.

_Look away. Oh Baby, please just look away._

With a shuddering breath, Buffy angrily wiped away her tears as her thoughts drifted to the man that had taken her mother away. That had taken her away and had made her the person that she was today. As hot, angry tears burned at the corners of her eyes, she looked down at her small hands, inspecting them. As they began to shake, she imagined that she could still see the blood that had stained her skin. She had never told the others this, but it didn't take long for her to remember everything that had happened. It was as though she was being held back, further than ever before with no choice but to watch her hands as they moved of their own volition.

She had watched as her hands struck Jarod, beating him, choking him... She had watched as her hands had torn at the flesh of the men from the Watcher's Council, as her hand punched through Quentin Travers' chest, past skin, bone, and organ until she felt his body shudder around her closed fist... She had been unable to stop or control her hand from doing any of these things, yet that thought didn't prevent her from feeling the horror and guilt at what had happened. Because even if she wasn't in control, that had been _her_ hand. It was by her hand that so many lives had been ended. Her hand. And with Lyle... with Lyle not only had it been her hand, but it had been her hand under her control as she had shoved that knife to the hilt in his chest. She had stared into his eyes and probably even smiled as she twisted that knife, eviscerating him with no other feeling but the cold anger of revenge. She had killed a man, a human, and it was the one death that she didn't regret. The one death that still caused a white-hot anger to filter through her veins. Her tormentor, her mother's murderer, was dead. He had died at her hand but it hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. Lyle had deserved to die slowly, painfully, and in a way that allowed him to beg for her mercy. Mercy that she would never grant. And it was these thoughts that she could never reveal to anyone else. They scared her. They were what drove her to the dark night.

Pushing away from the window Buffy hurried over to her large bed and sat on its edge. Without thinking she quickly slipped on her tennis shoes and hurried into the other room, grabbing the cloak in one hand and throwing it over her shoulders. With a glance at Giles' closed door she snagged a piece of brittle looking paper and then searched frantically for a pen or a pencil - all to no avail. Frustrated, she angrily eyed what appeared to be a bottle of ink. What? Did they expect her to write by dipping her finger in the ink? Giles would just have to deal. Shrugging, she hurried over to the large table and grabbed her sword and started towards the door. She needed to kill something, and she needed to do it now. But just as she was about to slip through the open portrait hole, her eyes alighted on the dart gun. Maybe this would help to make amends for running off without word - again. Grabbing the small device she left the room in a quiet bustle of cloth.

* * *

With the bright full moon illuminating the ground before her, Buffy crept through the dark woods like a predator in her element. Even as sore, tired, and bruised as she was, she still moved with a grace that defied humanity, her green eyes glittering in the darkness as they swept the ground below, the trees around, and the dark sky towering above her, her cloak trailing past her slim form. The past few hours of hunt had been fruitful as it seemed that either all of the weird stuff Giles had been talking about either came out later at night or else were just waiting for her to be on her own. Whatever the case, her patrol had turned into anything but a boring jaunt through a dark wood. Yet out of everything, the most bizarre had been when she stumbled upon a creature that was half man, half horse. When she was certain that it wasn't going to attack, she had lowered her sword and proceeded to have a dizzying conversation with the creature. Even now she wasn't quite sure what they had talked about - something about dark strangers and a lot of babble of the positions of the stars. Buffy had never really given the stars any more thought than a brief glimpse and a side comment of ooh, pretty. To worry about orientation and prophetic doom was more down Giles' alley - or Angel's even... he was always good with the cryptic. Sighing, Buffy's eyes drifted shut briefly, daring herself to think of the man who had walked out of her life close to a year ago.

Suddenly the very air seemed to come alive around her. Freezing, Buffy slowly lifted her sword, her dark eyes sweeping through the thick wood that surrounded her. She sensed something in the dark night - something that screamed at her that she was no longer alone. And then that thought was confirmed as she heard something crashing through the brush to her right. Lifting the sword high, Buffy stayed her hand just in time as a magnificent white horse dove out of the trees before her, missing her by inches before bolting into the foliage behind her. No, not horse. Unicorn. Jaw dropping, Buffy lowered her sword as her eyes locked on the departing phantom. A unicorn. She just saw a freaking unicorn.

Yet just as quickly, her impending awe was smothered as something else flew through the foliage, obviously in hot pursuit of the unicorn - something large, man-like, green, and slimy. Grimacing, Buffy backed away and lifted her sword just as the monster turned its glowing yellow eyes in her direction. "Hello, Swamp Thing," she muttered as the thing opened its mouth, revealing a jaw full of pointed, yellow teeth. And with that, what seemed like the hundredth fight that night quickly got underway.

Like before, Buffy allowed herself to fall into a familiar routine, her brain working on its lowest level as she parried, thrust, blocked and moved, avoiding the monster's clawed fists, feet, and snapping jaws. It was as though she was on autopilot, her mind focusing automatically on the beast, cataloguing its strengths and weaknesses and working to exploit it. As always, the creature and the fight served its purpose as it drove away her dark thoughts - distracting her from the memories that always threatened to consume her. She used it like an alcoholic used a glittering bottle of tequila. She used it to numb the pain, even if only for a little while. And perhaps like an alcoholic, this method of dealing with the pain may not have been the best, for in her line of work, autopilot can get you killed. Or in this case, worse.

Distracted as she was, Buffy didn't see the bony protrusion extend from the creature's fist until it was almost too late. Gasping, she desperately shifted on her foot and tried to throw her weight back, barely managing to avoid the pointed spike from becoming lodged in her chest. Instead, the edge of it tore through her cloak and clothing, tearing into her stomach and nearly disemboweling her. Unable to stop the cry of pain as it was ripped from her throat, Buffy doubled over, surprise etched on her face as her hot blood soaked through her jumper and white shirt, staining her hands with the sticky fluid even as the creature took advantage of her pain. Before she could lift a hand to defend herself, the monster backhanded her, rocking her back and to the ground as her lip split open under the force, a stream of blood trailing down her chin.

Grimacing, Buffy spit out a mouthful of thick, hot red fluid as the creature grabbed her by the straps of her jeans, hoisting her bodily from the ground and carrying her until her back was pinned painfully against a tree, many feet off the ground. Grunting against the impact, Buffy tried lifting her hands just as the creature readjusted its grip, wrapping its hard, slimy hands around her throat and squeezing for all it was worth. Wheezing as her air supply was slowly cut off, Buffy pulled at the hands holding her, feeling her strength begin to fade as dots began to prick at her vision. She was dying, she knew, and in that moment, she almost welcomed it.

Death would mean relief. Freedom. It would mean finally going home and returning to her mom. Going back to a time when everything made sense. Gasping, gagging, Buffy's hands dropped down to her side, and she closed her eyes against the sight of the creature's demonic face. Yet even as that visage disappeared, other faces began to take its place. First came Giles, his warm green eyes smiling up at her as slowly Xander, Willow, and Faith's faces flashed before her - only to be replaced by Lyle's. Even as she felt the strength leave her body, she thought back to how long the Centre had beaten her down until she began to pray for this moment. For this darkness to consume her. For it all to be over. They had pushed her to that weakness, and to hell if she'd ever be pushed there again.

As quickly as it had gone, Buffy felt her strength return to her and rush through her oxygen-starved limbs, carried forth on a wave of anger so intense that it could only be accurately called rage. With this rage came a wild abandonment as Buffy felt her iron-clad control finally slip for the first time that night - well, second time if you considered her brief lapse earlier that night - carrying her to a place where she had only been twice before in her life: the night that she had ground the Master's bones to dust and the night that she had killed Lyle. Seething, Buffy allowed the rage to claim her as one hand slid down to her side pocket and clasped around the smooth end of her stake. Opening her eyes, she became lost in the demon's hellish yellow orbs, blinking as Lyle's face became superimposed over the creatures as she jammed the stake into the thing's heart with all the force that she could muster.

Falling to the ground as the creature fell back with an inhuman screech, Buffy gasped for air, her eyes never leaving its flailing form. And before it had even finished its descent to the ground, she was on it like a wild animal, seizing her stake and stabbing it over and over again as the tears poured down her cheeks. Sobbing brokenly, she continued to tear into the strange creature, long after it took its last breath, until her strength finally abandoned her, leaving her trembling beside it. Numb, she finally allowed the stake to fall from her nerveless fingers, her hands shaking as she looked at the brownish fluid that dripped from the digits and stained her clothing.

As quickly as it had come, the anger was gone, replaced with a wave of self-disgust and loathing unlike anything she had ever known. Grimacing, Buffy quickly jerked to her feet, her eyes tearing away from the dead creature and to the night beyond. Angrily wiping away her tears, she began to stumble away, swaying slightly and only remembering her wound as she fell against the tree that had almost been her grave marker. Wincing, she gently pressed a trembling hand against her stomach, hissing at the pain and pulling away a pale hand now covered in blood. As another wave of dizziness caused spots to appear at the corners of her vision, Buffy decided that it was finally time to call it a night. Yep, definitely kicked enough ass this night - had her ass kicked enough - time to head back and recuperate. Or so she had planned.

Grunting, Buffy barely had time to curse her luck as something plowed into her, yet again, from the thick underbrush. Crying out, Buffy landed on the hard ground, wincing as rocks and roots bit into her back and collided with the back of her head. Stunned, she weakly lifted her hands just in time to wrap her fingers in thick, silver fur, gagging as a wave of hot, putrid breath fanned across her face. Green eyes quickly blinked open and locked on the dark eyes of the creature attempting to rip her throat out as her protesting muscles strained against the wolf's weight, straining to keep the muzzle away.

Wolf. Muzzle. Full moon. Werewolf.

Grimacing, Buffy found herself reaching inside her cloak once again that night as her other hand trembled against the wolf's weight. Gasping, she felt her hand slip around the cool, comforting grip of her weapon as she quickly pulled it loose and shoved it against the wolf's side. "Nighty - night," she gasped as she pulled the trigger, the dart lodging itself into the wolf's side and releasing its potent drugs into its system. Then, seconds later, the wolf was out as it sagged against her.

"Oh God," she moaned, trembling arms pushing the werewolf off and rolling it to the side. Alright, so maybe patrolling on her own wasn't the best of ideas, she realized as she slowly climbed to her feet, her every muscle complaining against that small movement. Sighing, she warily eyed the wolf, taking in its bright silver fur. It was big - bigger than Oz, and judging by the coloring, older as well. Lifting the gun, she quickly fired again, sending another dart into the wolf's side. After a night like she'd had, she wasn't taking any chances. Which was why she was already pulling the trigger on the gun a third time, even as she swung in the direction that the werewolf had come, her eyes locking on the large black dog that she had downed with the dart.

"What in the hell?" she muttered, weakly sagging against a tree as her eyes swept over the two animals. Okay, so a werewolf and a big dog. What next? Sighing, she stumbled over to the downed mutt and gently patted its fur. "Sorry puppy," she murmured before turning back to the werewolf. "And as for you," she muttered as she slowly bent down and hefted the animal's large paws. "Just can't leave you all unconscious in the woods. What if you're nice?" she grunted as she began dragging the creature behind her, heading towards the castle. "Plus, you're gonna be all naked when you wake up," she added, carrying on her one-sided conversation with the wolf as the trees began to clear before her. "We'll just let that old Dumbly guy know that he has a werewolf prob-" she began as she tried dragging the thing onto the grounds, which was when both she and the wolf were quickly expelled in a very ouchy fashion.

Groaning, Buffy slowly stirred and then stilled as her body cried out in protest. Her night was quickly going from bad to worse as she realized that she had just been zapped for the _second_ time that night by the damn magical barrier. "Hey, I've met the guy," she protested weakly as she slowly forced her body to sit. "I'm loyal, already," she argued, her eyes darting around the darkened woods until they landed on the werewolf, still out cold. "At least he didn't feel the zap," she muttered when understanding dawned across her features. Sighing in disgust, she resisted the urge to slap herself upside the head as she forced herself to unsteady feet. "Yeah, I don't suppose that a werewolf is going to be very loyal to the Professor dude," she murmured, frowning as she moved to stand before the wolf. "But now what? Can't really leave you all alone out here where you can run off or get hurt," she mused, her eyes darting longingly back towards the castle where she knew her nice, warm bed awaited.

Sighing, Buffy finally relented and grabbed the wolf's paws once again. "If you're nice, you're _so_ gonna owe me for this," she muttered as she proceeded to drag the large animal as close to the invisible barrier as she dared, not willing to do another repeat zapping performance. Then, even as her breath fogged before her in the cold night, Buffy reluctantly undid the clasp of the heavy robe and draped it over the sleeping wolf. "There's going to be enough weirdness as it is without you being all naked," she explained before slowly turning away and stumbling a few feet onto the ground.

Satisfied that she must be protected by the barrier, she finally allowed herself to slip to the hard ground, wincing as the slight movement pulled at her wounded stomach. "All I gotta say is that this freaking cold country better have sunrise soon," she muttered, glaring at the wolf for good measure before settling back against a tree, her arms cradled over her wounded stomach. Sighing, there was nothing left to do besides wait for the sun to rise.


	10. Chapter 10

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 10  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Life is an unrelenting comedy. Therein lies the tragedy of it."**  
-Dean Koontz-

As the fiery sun rose over the horizon, the grounds quickly became cloaked beneath a cloud of cool mist, obscuring the smallest of details and bathing the world in a muffling silence. Even though Harry only truly took the time to see the world at this early hour a few times each month, when everyone else was still asleep, it was one of his favorite times of day. With the world so still and silent, he could almost forget the pain, fear, and regret that they all lived with and focus on the peace that the world contained in its most innocent hour. Smiling softly, he quietly closed the large doors of the castle behind him and made his way down the steps of Hogwarts, his heavy black cloak drawn around his lean frame and his trusty Firebolt casually leaning against his shoulder. Within hours the sun would burn away the mist, but until then, Harry was going to enjoy every minute of it.

His footsteps muffled by the misty morning, Harry stilled as his feet met the dewy, grassy grounds of Hogwarts. Lifting his broom from his shoulder, he quickly mounted it and then kicked off into the morning air, the cool mist wetting his cheeks and parting around his lean frame. Up until Dumbledore had closed the school, Harry had maintained his seeker position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Despite his added inches, he still remained the quickest on the broom, and the most agile flyer that Hogwarts had seen in many a year. It was the one thing that he did right, all on his own. It wasn't something that was attributed to his connection with Voldemort, and nothing that he had learned on his own. It was nothing imagined or exaggerated. It was just something that came naturally to him - something that was all together his, thereby making it his greatest achievement. His greatest joy.

As the wind whipped his heavy robes around him, Harry directed his broom to the edges of the magical boundary that protected them all. Slowing slightly, his sharp eyes, trained from years of looking for the small, golden snitch, roved the borders, searching as he always did come this time. However, when his eyes did alight on a figure on the grounds below, it definitely wasn't the figure that he had been searching for. Startled, Harry quickly dove down, alighting softly beside the strange girl from the night before. She was curled into a small ball on the wet grass, face pale and streaked with blood, her blonde hair pooled around her small shoulders. She looked dead. Paling, he shifted his weight, bending towards her as a small twig cracked beneath his foot. What happened next came so fast that Harry barely had time to register the fact that he was now lying on the ground, a sharpened piece of wood scant centimeters above his chest. Gasping, Harry lifted his wide green eyes to the wild eyes above him. Eyes that slowly faded into recognition.

Confused, Buffy slowly lifted her head, her eyes taking in the misty grounds spread before them, hints of the tall castle peeking out in the distance. She had been so sure that she was in the Centre - so sure that she had somehow been brought back. She heard a sound and was jolted from her sleep, only to realize that she was cold, sore, stiff, and definitely not lying on Giles' couch. She had thought that she had been back and had reacted in that instant with a ferocity that frightened her.

"Buffy?"

Startled from her thoughts, Buffy looked down and into the pale, frightened face of one Mr. Harry Potter - the guy that she was currently straddling with a stake poised inches above his heart. Flushing, Buffy dropped the stake and clambered to her feet, reaching down to seize his hand and pull him up beside her. "Didn't anyone ever tell you how dangerous it is to sneak up on dangerous magical creatures?" she asked crossly, scowling up into his pale face.

"Nope, never did learn that one," he retorted, his eyes taking in her mussed hair and gently reaching forward to pull a twig from her tangled masses. "However, I will make a point to remember it from now on," he added, his eyes skipping down to the forgotten weapon as she slowly bent to retrieve the stake, grimacing at the movement. Concerned, Harry's eyes drifted over her, noticing the dark stains that covered her clothing - especially the stains that looked suspiciously like a vast amount of blood on the front of her jean jumper. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed, his face paling even further as he realized just how much of the blood had to be hers.

As though remembering the wound for the first time herself, Buffy looked down at her stained clothing. "Must not have been that bad - didn't even bleed to death," she quipped as she unhooked one strap and lowered the jean bib, wincing at how her once bright white shirt was now stained red. Slowly she lifted the hem of her top, hissing as it pulled at dried blood.

Paling even further, Harry lifted one hand and gently traced his finger above a long gash that started on one side of her frame and trailed all the way over to the other, dry blood crusted over top. "We need to get you to the infirmary," he murmured as Buffy absently batted his hand away.

"No hospitals," she protested, her tone sharper than she had intended as Harry met her gaze quizzically. Flushing, she quickly readjusted her clothing. "Besides, it's already almost healed," she added, her eyes focusing on her clumsy attempts to reclasp the snap of her overalls.

Frowning, Harry stepped back, his eyes taking in her pale skin. She had been so tanned the night before. "You must be frozen," he finally said, his green eyes conveying his worry. "How long have you been out here?"

"Long enough," Buffy returned with a small shrug, turning away from the young wizard and moving back towards the woods that had nearly claimed her the night before. She would have to be more careful tonight - more watchful and aware.

"What were you doing out there?" Harry continued, following behind her, his eyes tracing over her slight form. "And why don't you have a cloak?"

"I did," she replied, finally stilling as she stepped over the invisible barrier protecting Hogwarts and into the Forbidden Forest, "but he needed it more," she added as she pointed to another form lying prone on the ground, just outside the barrier a few feet away.

Freezing, Harry followed Buffy's hand and felt his breath catch in his throat as he recognized the gray head poking out from beneath a heavy, black cloak. "Remus!" he cried, his voice strangled as he quickly forgot every rule that was laid down for him, bolting across the barrier without another thought as he fell to his knees at his professor's side.

"You know this guy?" Buffy asked, her nose crinkling as she stilled beside the two, her eyes taking in the man's weathered features. She had been right about the wolf being older than Oz - the guy looking around Giles' age with hard lines cut into his face and a peppering of thick gray hair. Thank God she gave up her cloak to him. Not the first thing that she'd want to see in the morning.

"This is Professor Remus Lupin - one of my guardians," Harry explained, his eyes frantically searching the man for injuries.

"And did you know that he's a werewolf?" she asked, a wry smile lifting her lips.

"Of course," he returned, his gaze finally lifting to meet hers. "That's why I'm out here this early," he explained, gesturing to the still morning around them. "Ever since Professor Snape disappeared, Professor Lupin has had no one to make his wolfsbane potion and he's been forced to put himself in the Forbidden Forest on nights of the full moon. He can't cross the barrier while a wolf-"

"A lesson we learned the hard way," Buffy affirmed, wincing as she rubbed her still sore muscles.

Confused, Harry stared at the girl for a moment before continuing on. "It's safer this way," he added with a small shrug. "And after the full moon I always come out here to meet them and make sure he's alright," he finished, a small frown pulling at his lips as his eyes returned to his friend. From all appearances, he simply appeared to be sleeping. "What did you do to him?"

Smiling innocently, Buffy lifted the gun that she had dropped the night before. "I used a tranquilizer dart on him... well, two, actually," she admitted apologetically. "But he didn't really leave me a lot of choice. He did try to eat me," she added, pouting slightly as she crossed her arms defensively over her chest.

Relieved, Harry nodded distractedly before turning his eyes to the dark woods spread out before them. "I just don't understand," he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "What on Earth happened to Sirius? He should have prevented-"

"Wait a sec," Buffy interrupted, green eyes narrowing slightly. "What does any of this have to do with your godfather?" she asked, a feeling of unease beginning to filter through her veins.

"Sirius always follows Remus into the woods on the full moon," Harry explained distractedly. "He keeps him in line."

Confused, Buffy's eyes followed Harry's into the dark woods. "Is that a wizard thing?" she asked, her nose crinkling slightly. It wasn't as though she was new to this whole werewolf deal. She had seen Oz, countless times, at his werewolf-y worst, and as far as she could see, there was nothing anyone could do to keep a wolf in line save drugging it or locking it up. Before he could answer, Buffy quickly pushed on. "Well, I didn't see your godfather anywhere," she stated, despite the odd feeling that she was getting - like perhaps she had done something really wrong, again. "Just the wolf and a big, black dog.." she murmured, her voice trailing away as Harry's eyes snapped to hers, his eyes growing wide. Sighing, Buffy felt her worst fears confirmed. Well, not worst. Worst would be if Harry told her that his godfather somehow turned into a swamp-thing-like monster on nights of the full moon.

"Don't tell me that the pooch is-" she began, her voice trailing off as her senses started going wild. Quickly she moved before Harry, placing herself as a shield before him as she raised the dart gun before her - only to drop it to her side as aforementioned pooch in human form stumbled out of the woods and towards them, a hand pressed against his head. Sighing, Buffy closed her eyes and stepped to the side, feeling sheepish once again. "Why me?" she mumbled as Harry quickly launched himself at his guardian.

As the teen began pummeling the older man with questions, Buffy looked down to the dart gun that she held in her hands. Flushing, she quickly hid the weapon behind her back as the man's assurances washed over her, his blue eyes finally lifting from his godson and locking on her. "Listen, about last night," she began weakly as his blue eyes swept over, his face going pale as he brushed past his godson and closed the distance between them in a few long strides. "It was a-" she broke off as his hands wrapped around her upper arms, gripping her so tightly that had she been anyone but the slayer, it probably would have hurt. "Hey, it was an accident!" she protested as his eyes swept over her again. "Listen, I didn't know that you could go all doggy!" she added as Harry flanked the older man, his green eyes showing his concern and confusion.

Ignoring her protests, Sirius finally found words for his fears as his blue eyes locked with hers. "Did he hurt you? Were you bitten?" he asked, his voice cracking beneath his desperation as his eyes locked on the unmistakable sight of dried blood that coated her skin and clothing. It was as if his worst fears were coming to life, and Sirius felt himself being pushed beneath the heavy weight of whatever verdict she would bring. If she had been bitten... if Remus had done the unthinkable... Sirius knew that his friend wouldn't be able to live with the thought. It would destroy him and that, in turn, would destroy whatever sanity Sirius had managed to retain after eleven years in Azkaban.

Confusion dying away, Buffy gently, but firmly pried Sirius' hands away and slowly stepped back. "Once again, I'm fine," she said, her tone firm as she unconsciously crossed her arms over the mess that was her clothing. "Besides," she added at his evident doubt, "it's not like this was the first time I've taken down a werewolf. Trust me when I say that I've been playing this game awhile." At her words, Sirius merely arched a thick black brow. "What?" Buffy continued, her tone turning indignant. "You don't think we have werewolves on the Hellmouth?" she asked, watching as he paled slightly at the mention of her hometown. Apparently, he'd heard of all the fun that living on the mouth of Hell entailed. "Nah, we've got it all, plus some," she added, enjoying herself immensely as she winked at Harry. "Plus, one of my good friends was bitten by his werewolf-toddler-cousin a few years back."

Smiling slightly at the girl, Sirius decided to let it drop and instead returned his attention to the red mess that she was literally caked with. "So what's with all the blood?" he asked, nodding at her stained garments.

Grimacing, Buffy turned her eyes to her wrecked clothing. "This," she muttered darkly, "is living proof that I'm down by one outfit already." Sighing dramatically, Buffy ran her fingers along the clean cut that cleaved the jean and shirt below, revealing her healing wound in all its grisly glory. "While I've gotten quite good at getting blood and demon goo out of pretty much anything, that slice is pretty irreparable," she continued, oblivious to the guys' amusement.

"Not completely," Harry returned with a small smile as he slipped his wand from his cloak. "_Reparo vestis_," he said, waving his wand with a flourish and then flicking it slightly, his eyes narrowed on her clothes.

Confused, Buffy followed Harry's gaze, her eyes widening as she noticed that not only was the rip gone, but the stains were as well. Even the wrinkles from a cold night sleeping on the dewy grounds were gone. The shirt and jeans looked as good as new. Better than new, actually. Grinning, Buffy turned bright eyes to the lanky teen beside her. "Thanks!" she chirped, hands patting down the unmarred material. "You know? That little trick of yours could have saved me a _fortune_ in clothes over the past four years!" she added as Sirius rolled his eyes at their antics.

"Well if you two are quite finished," he broke in, his eyes drifting down to take in his unconscious friend, "we better get Remus back up to the castle and to Madam Pomfrey." Pulling his own wand from his robes, he quickly cast a clothing charm before tossing the dark cloak back to its owner. Then, with another flick of his wrist, and a mumbled _mobilicorpus_, he levitated his friend and led the way back onto the Hogwarts' grounds and towards the castle which loomed in the distance.

Startled by the sight of the man floating beside Sirius, Buffy shrugged the sight away and wearily began to follow. This place was weird, granted, but she had to admit that she'd probably seen weirder over the past four years. She had been desensitized to weirdness. Nothing could really faze her - not for long, anyway. "So who's Madam Pomfrey?" she asked, catching up to Harry and smiling at the sight of the old-fashioned broom perched on his shoulder. She'd save that one for later.

"She's the mediwitch at Hogwarts," Harry explained as he followed his godfather. "A sort of nurse."

"Oh," Buffy mumbled as her eyes slipped back to Sirius. "But your friend doesn't really need to go to the doctor," she offered as his blue eyes turned to her. Stumbling slightly at his intense gaze, Buffy hurried on. If she was to be honest with herself, there was something in the older man's gaze that threw her a little - something that looked so haunted. Maybe it threw her so much because it was a look that she often saw in her own eyes. Shrugging the thought away, Buffy nodded at the floating man beside her. "I only tranqued him."

"She used a tranquilizer dart," Harry quickly supplied, forestalling his godfather's confusion. "It's a muggle type of sleeping potion," he explained as Buffy's startled green eyes turned to him. Shrugging at her wide-eyed gaze, he ran a hand through his unruly black hair. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle," he added as a frown twisted his lips. "The worst sort of muggles."

Grimacing slightly, Buffy faltered beside Harry as she slowly turned her eyes away. "I've probably met worse," she muttered, almost too softly to hear as she forced herself to turn away from thoughts of Lyle, Raines, and all of the 'muggles' that had done so much to her for so long. Sighing, she lifted her eyes, only to find herself in the large foyer of the castle. Turning, she watched as Sirius floated Remus away, trying and failing to hide her snicker at the amusing sight - a snicker that was quickly muffled by a large yawn.

"You look tired," Harry noted, frowning softly as he took in her haggard appearance. While he had managed to help her make her clothes look as good as new, from everything that Percy and the others had said the night before, there was no magic he could produce to reduce the dark bags under her eyes or return the color to her pale skin. At least the blood on her abdomen was hidden.

"It was a productive night," Buffy returned nonchalantly as she moved towards a suit of armor beside the door, the metal shining brightly. Sighing, she leaned forward and grimaced at her reflection. Giles would have her hide if she returned looking as she did. Frowning, she began scrubbing at the blood that caked her chin from her busted lip, almost completely healed now. What Harry had been too polite to say was that she really looked like crap.

"Here."

Surprised, Buffy looked down at the damp cloth that Harry was holding out to her. For a moment, she thought to ask where in the heck he managed to come up with that, but instead just smiled gratefully and used it to wipe away the rest of the evidence of her night's activities. No reason to have Giles go ballistic quite yet - especially if she ever wanted to patrol solo again. He had never seemed to mind so much back in Sunnydale, but that was when Faith was by her side. He didn't even have to say anything for Buffy to realize just how much things had changed between them - how protective of her he had become.

"Listen, do you want to grab some breakfast before turning in?" Harry asked suddenly, pulling Buffy from her thoughts as she finished smoothing her hair back into a semblance of order.

For a moment, Buffy considered turning down his invite, if for no other reason than the sound of a nice, long soak in that ancient bath tub sounded even better - until her stomach gave its vote. Blushing slightly at her tummy's rumblings, the small blonde shrugged her shoulders before smiling cheekily. "I think that was my answer," she replied as Harry matched her grin and led her towards the open doors of the Great Hall.

Despite the early hour, the large room was as packed as it had been the night before, many families dining together before those who were able to left for work. As the din of the breakfast hour encompassed them, Buffy allowed her head to tilt back and take in the bright morning sunshine that filtered down through the enchanted ceiling high above. She didn't think that she'd ever tire of that sight. Smiling slightly, she followed in Harry's wake, grinning at the many looks that she was drawing, same as the night before, her eyes drifting forward to take in their destination... and her Watcher who was busy glaring at her. Faltering slightly, Buffy quickly pasted on a bright grin, steeling herself as Giles abandoned his seat to tower before her.

"Where have you been?" he hissed, his voice low and obviously attempting to be subtle - and very much so failing.

As Harry settled into an open spot between his two friends, Buffy felt every eye on the table lock on her and her Watcher. "I couldn't sleep and went back to the Forbidden Forest for another patrol," she replied, her voice steady as her green eyes met his. She tried to hide her frustration at the third degree, reminding herself once again that he was only concerned about her. Then again, it was a little more difficult to remember that when it was still too easy to remember the free reign he had always previously given her.

"All night?" he asked, taking in the clothes that she had been wearing the night before. Sighing, he knew the answer to his question even as he asked it, his hand reaching out and his finger trailing lighting over her lip. "That wasn't there before," he said, trying to remain calm as his eyes swept over her for evidence of further injury.

Brushing his hand away, Buffy forced a bright smile for her watcher. "I found one of those nasty creatures you were talking about," she explained casually, purposely avoiding mention of her much larger and more painful wound. The less he knew about the night before, the better, she figured, all the while hoping that Harry would follow her cue and keep his mouth shut. "But hey, no worries," she added, turning her smile up a notch or two in a way that only she could manage. "I won, demon's dead, and I even managed to find Harry's guardians for him," she added, grinning broadly at her version of the previous night's events before purposely turning away and settling into a vacant seat.

Sighing, Giles shook his head, his eyes meeting with both Molly and Arthur Weasley who seemed to be commiserating with his frustration. He supposed that they could relate - although he doubted that any of their children could even compete with the troubles that his small slayer provided. The headaches and the frustrations were astounding for one so small. Shaking his head, Giles settled beside his slayer, watching as she dug into her food, seemingly oblivious to the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the table. Seemingly being the key word.

Eyes locked on the plate before her, Buffy felt her face grow hot as she silently wished that Giles would have held off the confrontation until later. She was going to have to see these people on a daily basis, and she already felt like the new kid on the block. She didn't need her watcher adding to the embarrassment.

As though reading her mind, Ron quickly smiled and leaned forward, his eyes searching hers out. "I think that it's wicked cool that you're a slayer!" he said, a large dimple appearing in each cheek as Hermione rolled her eyes.

Unable to resist returning his infectious smile, Buffy smirked at the tall redhead. "Well, it does have its moments," she allowed as someone settled in the vacant seat beside her. "And the Chosen One has such a better ring to it, doesn't it?" she added, forcing a bright smile as she ignored the memories that the single title brought.

"Although it does seem to land me on the wrong side of you all too often," Sirius quipped as he folded his long frame onto the bench beside the small blonde.

Grinning, Buffy lifted her fork to point it accusingly at the man beside her. "Well, if you'd quit starting things then you'd stop ending up all bruised and unconscious!" she said, accidentally flinging bits of eggs in his direction as Sirius flushed at her words, laughter ringing out around them - laughter that faltered as Remus wandered over to the table, obviously distracted, and settled in the vacant seat beside Giles.

Amused, everyone at the table watched as the professor reached for his fork, faltering when he finally became aware of the strangers sitting beside him. Startled, he quickly dropped the utensil and turned to the older watcher, his confusion turning into a warm, welcoming smile. "I'm so sorry - my head isn't quite straight this early, I'm afraid," he said as he held out his hand to the watcher. "Remus Lupin," he said by way of introduction as the two men shook hands.

"Rupert Giles," Giles returned with a small smile as the man then leaned across Giles to shake Buffy's hand.

"Buffy Summers," she added, blushing slightly. "And we've already met."

Confused, Remus looked at the girl, gray eyes taking in the green eyes, blonde hair, the slightly swollen lip and the strange muggle clothing. She was American, he was sure of that. And he was also sure that he'd never seen her before in his life. "We have?" he asked, his confusion evident.

Startled, Buffy turned wide eyes to the dark-haired man who was smirking beside her. "You didn't-" she began, her question dying as Sirius smiled mischievously, quickly leaning back to slap his friend on the back.

"Remus, why don't you tell our new friends what you do," he said, his smile innocent.

Confused, Remus shot his friend a suspicious look before turning back to the man who sat beside him. He recognized his friend's look all too easily, and he quickly wondered what he was setting himself up for. "I was the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts until the school's closing," Remus returned, shrugging slightly. "Since then I've stayed on to help Professor McGonagall to continue teaching the students that remain."

"The DADA professor?" Giles interrupted, his smile growing. "Well it seems then that we have a lot in common," he stated, even as Buffy was busy rolling her eyes dramatically beside him. Then again, perhaps she should be grateful - if she was _really_ lucky, Giles would be so distracted with this new find that she would be free from scolding for just a bit longer.

"We do?" Remus queried, obviously growing more suspicious by the second.

"More than you could possibly know," Giles assured, his smile growing at the man's confusion. "So tell me, what do you know of the methods for dispatching the red-tipped horning tail?"

* * *

Pausing on the threshold to the headmaster's office, Sirius took a moment to wipe the stupid grin from his face and school his amusement from breakfast a few minutes before into something far more appropriate. Defeat. Sighing wearily, Sirius felt his previous anxiety swarm back until the sound of his blood rushing through his veins filled his ears. His task had been long, arduous, and without question, extremely dangerous. And for all of the long weeks and months that he had been forced to be away from Harry, it was all for naught - and that was the worst feeling of all.

Shaking away his thoughts, Sirius slowly reached forward and pushed the door open, knowing that he had kept the beloved headmaster waiting long enough as it was. Lifting tired blue eyes, the ex-prisoner allowed his gaze to drift around the unchanging office until they locked on the warm eyes of Dumbledore, seated behind his desk with hands folded primly before him. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," he offered, repeating his thoughts as he crossed the office in a few long strides before folding his weary body into one of the plush chairs that faced the headmaster's desk, jumping slightly as he noticed Arthur Weasley for the first time, sitting in the high backed chair beside him. Offering a small smile to the older man, both shared a brief nod before turning their eyes back to the Headmaster.

"You had other matters to attend to," Dumbledore said, dismissing the other man's words with a small wave of one pale, wrinkled hand. "It just does my heart good to see that you have finally returned to us. You have been away far too long," he murmured, his usually bright and twinkling eyes now shadowed beneath the oppressiveness of the great weight that they all shouldered.

"I ran into some... resistance upon my return," Sirius acknowledged, knowing that he needn't explain further. In dark times such as these, the mention of the Death Eaters that had been lying in wait for his return to their shores was hardly a surprise, nor even note-worthy. All that mattered was that his many long years as one of the Marauders, schooling himself in mischief and ways to avoid the angry hands of McGonnagal or Filch, had come to his aid once more as he had miraculously avoided capture - and worse. He supposed that his relatively few years as an Auror for the Ministry after his graduation from Hogwarts probably helped as well.

"I see," Dumbledore responded, his voice far too grave for such a powerful wizard. One who had power such as he should never have to sound so resigned nor so weary of a world that was once more being cast into darkness - all powerless to stop the onslaught. It didn't matter if every single Death Eater was captured or killed, because until Voldemort himself fell, the darkness would never leave their world. Voldemort was the glue that held the darkness together and until he was eliminated, the threat would never be over. But this darkness wasn't something that a few strong and brave people could fight and defeat - a fact that Sirius was only too well aware of.

"What did you learn?" Arthur asked, pushing other questions aside and focusing on the matter that brought them to the office that morning. There were others that should have been there as well, other key members of the Order of the Phoenix... but that morning, they were all that could be gathered. The Order had been created by Dumbledore in the dark times during Voldemort's first rise to power, taking on the Dark Lord when the Ministry was found lacking. It was a hard truth to realize that the Order was needed once more, but a truth that none of their members were willing to ignore - unlike some of the higher echelon of the Ministry of Magic.

"The French, Belgium, and German Ministries of Magic have refused to send aid," Sirius responded grimly, getting straight to the point of the matter. "They have all stated that Voldemort is our own problem and they refuse to involve themselves in a matter that they believe belongs solely to Great Britain."

"Then they're even blinder than Fudge had been," Dumbledore returned, his voice a weary sigh as his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of Sirius' grave words. He would be lying if he were to say that he had expected anything different, but such a hope couldn't have been ignored. Someone had to try. "What they refuse to see is that once Voldemort has conquered our isle, he'll soon turn his attentions to the magical communities that surround us. He won't stop until he rules everything," he murmured, his voice growing soft as his blue eyes drifted until they locked on Fawkes shining figure on the post beside his desk.

As a thick silence fell upon the room, Arthur turned tired eyes to the ex-auror beside him. Sirius had been away from the castle for a long time and there was much that he had missed - much that he needed to know. "The emissaries that were sent to the other ministries in Spain, Russia, and even Ireland have all responded similarly. The emissary who was sent to Italy, Fitzhugh, never returned," he added, his voice low.

"Only the Americans, it seems, have shown an interest in our plight," Dumbledore added, smiling wanly at the rueful expressions on both mens' faces.

"And that's only because it's in the Americans' nature to have a hand in everything that happens in this world," Sirius added, smiling wryly at the thought of the new American that even now had joined in their battle. A very young, blonde, and _strong_ American.

"Nonetheless, they have stated that they will not directly aid us in our fight against Voldemort unless the request comes through the official channels," Arthur added, grimacing slightly at his words.

"Which, seeing as how Voldemort already owns the ministry, isn't likely to happen," Sirius sighed, voicing all of their thoughts aloud as he wearily lifted one hand to rub at his aching head. "And what of Hagrid and the giants?" he asked, turning back to his two comrades.

"We lost contact with Hagrid a few weeks back," Dumbledore responded, his face becoming even longer as his gaze once more drifted to his trusted phoenix. "I am beginning to fear the worst," he sighed, his eyes closing wearily before turning to the men that sat before him. "We are indeed living in grave times," he murmured before a small smile began tugging at the corners of his lips as he couldn't help but think of the small slip of a girl who had occupied Sirius' seat just the night before. "Yet there is always hope to be found," he added, forcing his despair away and focusing on what he knew to be true.

"And while there's still hope to be had, I will continue to be in your service," Sirius added, smiling softly despite the pain those words brought. His commitment to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix ran deep - a commitment that he had first made all of those years ago when he, Remus, Peter, and James and Lily Potter had pledged to join the fight against the Dark Lord. In the passing years he had lost two of his very best friends and was betrayed by a third - a series of dark events that no one could have predicted, and events that had led him to a third commitment that he had been unable to see to for far too long. And this commitment was the one that he had to forsake every time Dumbledore needed him for one mission or another - and that was the commitment that he had made to James and Lily when he became Harry's godfather. "Is there anything else that I can do? Anyone else I can visit?" he asked, forcing himself to say the words even as he could almost _feel_ Harry's disappointment at his imminent departure. Sadly, Sirius knew that Harry would understand and would make his sacrifice the same that he made every sacrifice for their cause - quietly and without protest. And that acceptance was almost harder to take than anything else, for Harry was used to being pushed to the side far too often.

As if reading his former student's mind, Dumbledore smiled softly and slowly shook his head. "I think it best that you remain at the castle and rest. You have been away a long time and I know that both Harry and Remus have missed you - especially Harry," he said, a twinkle sparkling in his blue eyes. "It would do them both good if you remained here for awhile. Besides," he added, his smile dimming, "something tells me that you'll be needed far more at the castle in the coming months than anywhere else."


	11. Chapter 11

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 11  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"She was like a rose amongst thorns..."**  
-Anonymous-

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Buffy Summers was bored out of her mind. It was well into her first week at Hogwarts and the slayer found herself coming to despair at the routine that she had fallen into. Each night she would head into the Forbidden Forest, often accompanied by Giles, and patrol until dawn came. After that, she'd join the others for breakfast, reveling in the company of the three teens so close to her own age - reminiscing always about the friends that she had left behind on the Hellmouth. After that it was to bed for a scant five or six hours only to awaken to an afternoon of boredom. Occasionally she and Giles would train outside on the grounds, but after spending the entire night patrolling the training almost seemed a moot point. What better training could take place then what she did each night out in the forest? Then it was dinner once more with their new friends before the vicious cycle began anew.

Sighing, Buffy tore her eyes away from the large book perched on her lap, her eyes roaming over their shared outer room. She had been curled in the chair before the roaring fire for hours, pretending to read the massive book that Giles had pushed into her hands - The Rise and Fall of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. The large text outlined the history that surrounded Voldemort as the wizarding world knew it, detailing events up until his downfall and subsequent disappearance over sixteen years ago. Even though it did make for interesting reading, especially considering how amusing she found it to watch as the pictures in the book would move or wave at her, Buffy found that her heart just wasn't in it today - she felt that growing itch of restlessness begin to stir. Once more, unbidden, her eyes drifted towards the portrait doorway.

Noticing his ward's wayward glances, Giles finally had enough. All of her sighing and longing looks were beyond distracting, and he realized that if he wanted to get anything accomplished that day, he had only one choice. "Buffy, for the sanity of us both," he began, startling her with his words as wide green eyes turned in his direction, "please go and find something to amuse yourself." As a slow smile began to lift her lips, he quickly shook his head. "Go to the castle library and find me a book on.. well, on something," he muttered crossly. "Just don't kill anything!" he added, his voice stern as Buffy bolted from her chair, the book falling forgotten onto the worn cushions as she smoothed away invisible creases on her long, charcoal skirt.

"Not unless it's evil," Buffy confirmed with a quick wave before darting through the portrait and into the dark hallway beyond before her watcher could change his mind, the painting thudding softly into place. Sighing in relief, she leaned back against the wall, grateful to be free at last. While she was loathe to admit it to Giles, Buffy found herself out of her element in the wizarding world. There were no malls, no telephones, no televisions... there was nothing that the young Californian was accustomed to in order to help pass the time. Worst of all, there were no Scoobies.

Shaking the thoughts away, Buffy straightened the white buttoned sweater she wore open over her black tank. Library. Yeah, she could do that, Buffy thought, smiling as she absently twisted her long blonde hair behind her and stuck a stray quill in back to hold it in place, the wisps flying haphazardly around her face as she turned and studied the long corridor. At least it was something to help pass the hours. Shrugging slightly, Buffy turned and headed down the corridor, the heels of her strappy sandals tapping on the cold stone floor.

* * *

Bored beyond belief, Harry struggled to hide a large yawn behind one hand while the other smoothed the ancient scroll that was unraveled before him. Wearily he lifted the hand further and rubbed it against his sore eyes, strained after hours of staring at the aged script, the lines all beginning to blur together. "Can someone remind me again what we're looking for?" Harry asked, breaking the comfortable silence that the friends had fallen into as his gaze drifted to the redhead that was snoring into his own pile of texts and scrolls.

"We're searching," Hermione began, pausing only to knock Ron's elbow out from beneath him, scowling as, with his support gone, his head cracked against the table. Wincing, the teen lifted his head, sparing a glare for Hermione as he rubbed his aching head. "For more information on the She-Mantis," she finished, smiling slightly at her friend.

"I could tell you about a She-Mantis, if you want," a soft voice offered tentatively from behind them.

Turning, the three friends watched as Buffy emerged from behind a stack of books, a large and dusty tome held in one hand and looking completely out of place in the dusty library - or maybe looking exactly at home. Running a hand through his unruly black hair, Harry's eyes wandered over her small form, her muggle clothing making her look all the more small, dainty, feminine... and beautiful. Feeling his cheeks flush at the thought, Harry turned his eyes back to the old scroll before him.

"Cor, do you go hunting dressed like that?" Ron burst out, obviously thinking along the same lines as his eyes swept over the small blonde. In the week that they had known her, the teens only ever saw the Slayer either right before or right after her patrol of the Forbidden Forest, always dressed in clothes that she could easily maneuver in. To see her dressed as she was, so casually, somehow made her look older and younger at the same time. It made her seem more real. More like them.

Startled by the question, Buffy followed the group's questioning eyes and took in her outfit. "What?" she asked, green eyes raising to take in the two males. "Just because I'm the Chosen One that means I'm not allowed to dress like a girl every now and again?" she continued, smiling wryly before closing the distance between them, dropping her book on the table with a thud while she perched on the edge, just as she always did in Giles' library back home... before they filled it with TNT, that is.

Rolling her eyes at her two friends, Hermione turned her bright eyes to the Slayer. "You know something about the She-Mantis?" she asked, arching her eyebrow skeptically at the girl.

Wrinkling her nose at the question, Buffy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "If you're talking about the big old bug that can hide her nastiness under a pretty face and that lures male virgins to her nest for sex before death," she responded quickly, her eyes sparkling, "then that's a big yes." As both Harry and Ron paled at her words, Buffy smirked before turning back to Hermione. "Met one my first year on the Hellmouth," she added, grinning slightly. "She tried to hurt my friend, Xander, so I hacked her to death with a machete."

"Now when you say hacked," Ron began, his face beginning to turn a bit green.

"As in all the big parts becoming little ones," Buffy confirmed, grinning widely now.

Oblivious to her friends' pale pallor, Hermione looked at the petite blond with new eyes. "You know, if you're not busy, I'm sure that Professor Lupin would be interested in having you sit in on a few of our classes."

Grimacing, Buffy quickly shook her head. "Reading, writing and arithmetic - so not missing it," she said, crossing her feet at the ankles and gently swinging them back and forth, her skirt rustling around her. "There was a reason for that whole graduation thing... aside from blowing up the mayor, of course," she amended with a thoughtful smile.

"More like Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ron countered, ticking the classes off of his fingers as he went. "Just to name a few," he added, grinning as it was Buffy's turn to look at them in shock and confusion.

"Professor Lupin teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione explained, "among some of our other courses, and since you've probably dealt with many of the stuff that we cover... well, I'm sure that he'd like to have you attend some of the classes, if you're interested."

For a moment, Buffy considered the offer. On the one hand, she would be willingly agreeing to attend class - yet on the other, this promised to be class that not only was she interested in, but one that she could actually offer her own opinions and information. This was something that she wasn't only good at, but born to do. Plus, it wasn't as though she had anything else to really occupy her long hours of afternoon boredom. "Sure, I'm game," she said, shrugging before shoving off from the table, landing lightly on her feet only as a Slayer could. Absently, she allowed her eyes to roam over the musty library setting, a feeling of nostalgia causing her smile to dim a little. "My friends and I used to hang out in a library like this one all the time in high school," she murmured absently.

"Willingly?" Ron immediately asked, shooting the girl an incredulous stare before ducking a swipe from Hermione. "Isn't there anything better to do where you're from than that?"

"It was Scooby Central," Buffy defended, pouting softly at the red-haired teen. "Not to mention that it was sitting on the mouth to Hell," she added, almost as an afterthought before quickly scowling at the boy. "And it doesn't look like this place is any more happening. I mean, really, what do you guys do around here for fun? I'm going crazy without either a television nor a phone! Is all you guys do is just go to classes and study?"

"Of course not!" Ron protested, once more trying to avoid Hermione's back hand. "There's Wizard's Chess, Exploding Snaps, and-"

"Why don't you and Giles come back to the common room with us after dinner?" Harry asked, interrupting Ron's tirade as he finally tore his gaze away from the parchment laid out before him. "You both can relax with us before your patrol."

Surprised, Buffy considered his offer for the briefest of moments before quickly seizing the chance to do _something_ different. "It's a deal," she decided, smiling brightly at the trio. "Giles and I will hang out for a bit before taking our romp through the Forest - even if I have to drag him there," she stated as she lifted her heavy book into her arms. "See you at dinner!" she added before turning and skipping away from the three friends.

As a silence fell over the group once more, Harry turned back to the scroll, a small smile lifting his lips - a smile that didn't go unnoticed by his two closest friends. Finally, Ron had enough and turned to Hermione with a small, knowing smile. "Say 'mione, it's a good thing that Ginny got over her crush on Harry, isn't it?"

"Well you've always known that I've approved of she and Neville," Hermione stated distractedly as she waved away his question. "They made an adorable couple at the Yule Ball and you know that he's-" she broke off as Ron elbowed her, following his gaze to Harry whose ears had turned the most charming shade of red. "Oh - OH!" she said, catching on to his meaning as a wicked gleam sparkled in her eyes. She wasn't just brains and nothing else - there was a bravery and a mischievousness in her that made her a true Gryffindor, through and through. How else could she have gotten into so much trouble with her two friends over the past seven years? "Harry, do you fancy the slayer?" she asked, as blunt as always.

Flushing even more, Harry didn't bother with a response as he quickly gathered his things in a large, haphazard pile before him. "If you two are quite finished, I think it's time we get to Transfiguration before McGonagall gives us detention - again," he stated, his tone firm even though his eyes refused to meet his friends'.

"'Course, Harry," Ron chirped as he abandoned the table. "Wouldn't want to be late again, would we? Detention might mean missing out on a certain Slayer's visit," he added, snickering as Harry glared at him and Hermione both before sweeping from the room in a billow of dark robes. "Oy, it's been a while since I've been able to make him turn that color," he stated as he waited for Hermione, still chuckling at his friend's embarrassment.

"Too long," Hermione added, her amusement disappearing under a small frown. "I don't think he's even thought of a girl in that way since Cho Chang," she added, her expression turning somber. "And what with Cedric Diggory's death... well, Harry couldn't even look at her after that."

"Which makes this a good thing," Ron added, obviously confused by his friend's demeanor. "So what's with all the heavy expressions?"

Sighing, Hermione lifted her heavy bag to her shoulder, filled to the brim with books and scrolls. "I want Harry to be happy, truly I do," she murmured as they made their way through the library, "but a Slayer?" Sighing again, she paused just shy of the open doorway. "Ron, do you truly think that's best? Think of what we've learned of a Slayer. Think of how much it's going to hurt Harry when she dies. And she will die - it's a certainty that when you're called as the Slayer, your life expectancy drops until your teens. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already survived far longer than most slayers. I... I just don't want to see him hurt again, that's all," she added before turning and stepping into the hall, unaware of the silent figure who had heard her soft words.

As the teens started down the dark hall, Giles slowly abandoned his place in the shadows, a small frown playing at his lips. Would his slayer ever get the break that she deserved? Buffy had been through so much since being called as the Slayer - far too much. She had fought her destiny tooth and nail when first called, begging him to allow her to keep the life that she loved. It took her death to finally convince her that this was who she was, whether she wanted it or not.

_"Giles, I'm sixteen years old. I don't wanna die!"_

Hermione was right in that his slayer had lived longer than most of her predecessors. She was good - the best, actually. She fought with a drive that was unparalleled, her family and friends giving her the reason to keep going. Yet it seemed that fate just had to keep testing her, in all the worst kind of ways. She had sent her lover to Hell to save the world. She had to defeat a fellow slayer in order to stop her madness and to try and save that same lover. She had to watch her mother die before her very eyes and then endure months upon months of torture before nearly killing herself to be free of it all. If Giles could just take up her fight for her, he would do so in an instant. But he couldn't. She was the Chosen One, not him, and there was nothing he could do that he wasn't already doing in order to ease her burden. Angel had left Buffy almost a year ago so that she could be free of him and their love and find someone to walk in the sunshine beside her - to give her a chance at normalcy. And now Harry Potter's best friends were hoping against such a chance because of the hurt that Buffy would ultimately bring to the young wizard. Life was cruel and it seemed as though Buffy would never be spared of her sick humor.

* * *

"So this is Wizard's Chess?" Buffy asked, watching as yet another of Ron's knights attacked one of Ginny's pawns with a mad flourish, little marble pieces scattering in all directions. Incredulous, she lifted her eyes to the teens that sat around the small table before the roaring fire in the Gryffindor common room. "Kind of... violent, don't you think?" she asked, waving away the chalky air, even as she realized how truly odd that statement seemed when coming from her.

"You have to admit," Neville Longbottom began as he smiled openly at the blonde, "that deep down everyone has a part of them that loves breaking things!"

"Well we certainly know that _you_ do!" Hermione countered as the shy boy flushed a brilliant shade of red. "I think that you've destroyed enough cauldrons in Potions for that much to be evident," she added as Ginny scowled good-naturedly at her.

"You leave my boyfriend alone!" she declared, her face beginning to match the deep scarlet of her hair as she reached over and patted Neville's hand. "If you had Professor Snape picking on you as much as Neville did... well, you'd be nervous too!"

Smiling at the easy banter, Buffy leaned back in the plump chair, her eyes roaming the crowded room. It was easy for her to imagine the comfortable couches and chairs filled with students, the air redolent with chattering voices while the roaring fire crackled behind them. It was a cozy picture - one that must have been both familiar and perfect for the Gryffindors that surrounded her. Tonight the room was still filled, but this time with a number of people of various ages and doing a multitude of things. Molly Weasley sat in a large chair before the fire, knitting a sweater of some sort while Percy, Bill, Sirius, and Arthur Weasley sat at another table, piles of scrolls and books spread out before them. In the far corner of the room sat Remus Lupin and Giles, both bending over a large and ancient looking book, the hushed murmur of their excited conversation adding a comfortable undertone to the room - an undertone that was shattered by the sounds of breaking chess pieces. "So once they're done destroying each other, what then?" Buffy asked, forcing her mind back to the chess game before her. "All your pieces will be broken."

"Once the game is over the pieces regenerate," Harry explained, understanding her confusion all too well. He had thought along the same lines the first time he had seen Wizard's Chess almost seven years ago. "That's why it's a wizard's game - the pieces and the game are all enchanted."

Smiling wryly, Buffy slowly shook her head. "Don't you guys do anything that doesn't require magic around here?"

Frowning, Ron slowly scratched his head. "Well... no," he admitted, obviously puzzled by her question. "What would be the point in that?"

It took a moment for Buffy to realize that it was a serious question - that he obviously couldn't picture a life without at least _some_ kind of magic. "Wow... so none of your family has ever really been in my world, have you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at the conglomeration of redheads. "Your family has never really been around muggles before?"

"I visited Hermione's house once before," he said, nodding to his friend who was, per usual, buried in some book or another. "Other than that... well, my dad would be the closest, I guess, seeing as how he works in the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Mum stays at home, Percy works for the Ministry, Bill is at Gringotts, the wizarding bank, all the time, and my other brother, Charlie, works with dragons in Roman-"

"You have _another_ brother?" Buffy asked, interrupting his ramblings.

But before she could question him further on the topic, Harry quickly interrupted, throwing his friend a knowing glance. "Hey Ron, why don't you let Buffy try playing Ginny? Being a Slayer and all, I bet you're really good at strategy and all that."

"Oh no," Buffy quickly protested, a quick grin lifting her lips. "While I'm cool with the whole destructive bit, the heavy thinking thing is Giles' department. I'm more of the 'See-Demon-Slay-Demon' type of girl," she admitted with a small smile. "That whole strategy thing is a little above and beyond my capabilities."

"Then how about a game of Exploding Snaps?" Harry continued determinedly, releasing a small sigh when the others quickly agreed to the idea. After all, Ron was the Wizard's Chess Champion at Hogwarts and Ginny didn't really stand a chance of winning. Smiling softly as the chess board was pushed to the side and as a fresh deck of cards was fetched, Harry couldn't help a small cheer for himself. Seeing the smile pull at Ron's lips, he was thankful for his quick thinking. They didn't need another painful reminder of what they'd lost. Sometimes some heartache is better left for another night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 12  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Winter that year was strange and gray.  
The damp wind smelled of Apocalypse,  
And morning skies had a peculiar way,  
Of slipping cat-quick into midnight."**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

"So if there's no telephone _anywhere_ in the castle, how am I supposed to talk to everyone back home?" Buffy asked, her annoyance obvious by her tone as she clomped through the forest, her heavy black cloak trailing after her slim form.

"I know that this concept may be a little too difficult for your American-praddled mind," Giles retorted as he quickened his stride to match that of his small slayer, his eyes focused on the assorted tree roots that dotted his path, "but have you ever thought of writing them a letter? You do realize that the written word has long been a popular method of communication, even before there was such a thing as a telephone."

"Gee, really?" Buffy asked, finally stopping as she turned towards her watcher, cocking her head to one side. "Well how did we do email with no phone to dial up with?" she deadpanned before scowling at the older man. "Besides, for some reason I get the impression that the post office doesn't make its rounds out quite this far," she added as she turned on her heel, continuing her noisy trek through the woods, a broadsword perched casually on her shoulder.

Sighing, Giles wearily pinched the bridge of his nose before turning and hurrying after his ward. "The wizarding world uses the owl post," he explained, eyes darting around their ominous surroundings. "And must you make so much noise?" he added before his slayer could continue. "I'm sure I must have taught you the lesson of stealth at least some point in your training. If you keep this up, you will draw every single dangerous creature to our location in minutes!"

"I thought that was the point," Buffy returned, arching a slim brow as she smiled sweetly. "You know - spend each night playing in the forest, killing all the bad stuff before it can kill me. Isn't that how it's supposed to work? And what do you mean, owl post?" she asked, returning to their earlier conversation without missing a beat in a way that was completely dizzying to one not accustomed to her peculiarities.

Luckily, Giles had four years of experience in dealing with such matters. "Exactly as it sounds," he sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward long enough to miss the root that captured his next step, sending him falling against his petite slayer who in turn, easily kept him on his feet. "All wizarding mail is delivered by owl. Should you want to send a letter to Sunnydale, you need to simply write it and then tie it to the foot of one of the school owls located in the Owlery."

"Are you serious?" Buffy asked, stopping long enough to send her Watcher an incredulous stare.

"Completely," Giles assured, silently thanking whatever deity was listening for the respite as he collapsed against a nearby tree, his crossbow slipping unnoticed to the ground beside him.

Grinning deviously, Buffy's eyes shone in the dark night as she contemplated this new mode of communication. "Can't you just picture the look on Xander's face when an owl shows up at his bedroom window?" she asked, grinning delightedly. "He's going to freak-"

"Already has," Giles countered as he slowly bent and retrieved his crossbow, one hand resting on his aching back. "I sent them a letter just yesterday with instructions on how to ship the remainder of our belongings," he explained at Buffy's questioning gaze.

"Thanks for asking if I wanted to add a note!" Buffy pouted as she scowled at her watcher. "Real consid..." she began, her voice trailing away as her eyes narrowed, muscles tensing as she tightened her grip on her sword. Senses tingling, she slowly turned until her eyes locked on the woods behind them. "Told you it'd work," she murmured, just loud enough for Giles to hear as the shadows moved and grew until a large creature stepped from the darkness.

Relaxing immediately, Buffy felt a large grin spread across her face as she dropped her sword to her side. "Hey, Firenze!" she greeted, stepping towards the half horse, half man creature as Giles' mouth dropped comically open beside her. "Good to see you again!"

"Slayer," it greeted, its voice low and deep as it bent one leg, bowing low to her as his mane dipped around to shade his face.

Grimacing at the name, Buffy was about to argue before slowly giving up. "He didn't believe that my name was Buffy," she said, confiding to her watcher as Giles hesitantly took a step forward.

"Buffy... i-i-it's a Centaur," Giles stammered, his awe causing the stutter to come back full force as he quickly whipped off his glasses and began to polish them at a mad rate. "A-and y-y-you know him?"

Frowning, Buffy looked askance at her watcher. "I thought I had already made that much apparent, what with the whole, 'Hey, Firenze, good to see you again!'" she quipped, earning herself a reproving glare which she promptly shrugged away. "Yeah, Firenze and I met my first night out in the forest - before the slimy demon," she amended with a small smile. "Firenze, I'd like you to meet Giles, my watcher."

"The stars grant us this meeting, Watcher Giles," Firenze continued, his gaze unreadable.

Wrinkling her nose at the Centaur's words, Buffy could only shrug helplessly at her watcher. "Did I mention the funny star-talk?" she asked. "And if you thought talking to me was confusing, wait till you give this guy a try," she added before turning back to the Centaur. "So what brings you to my neck of the woods tonight?" she asked, getting down to business.

"I bring a message from the heavens," Firenze returned, his eyes flickering to the dark sky high above. "My brethren and fellow creatures of this wood have been warned of your presence and of your duty here - they will cause you no harm. Even Aragog, king of the spider folk has agreed to steer clear of your path."

"Hey, nifty," Buffy replied, her grin brightening. "That'll make my job a ton easier - no doubt on who to slay when out a-slayin'," she chirped, eyes turning to her watcher. "Which means that you don't have to baby-sit anymore, either!"

"But be warned, Slayer," Firenze continued, his tone growing even more somber, if possible. "The stars are out of alignment and foretell of dark times for these woods. Mars will draw closer to Mercury and combined they will bring death out of knowledge. Only the intervention of Venus can forestall the doom of our times."

"Er... right," Buffy said, blinking slowly at the Centaur as it nodded once at her and then her watcher.

"Until we meet again under the graces of the Moon, Slayer and Watcher Giles," Firenze called out before turning and disappearing into the shadows.

Alone once more, Buffy drew the edges of her cloak around her slim frame, her eyes darting to Giles. "And thus ends yet another whirlwind conversation with my good friend, Firenze," she chirped, lifting her sword and leaning it against her shoulder. "Shall we?" she asked, pausing only as she noticed the thoughtful expression on her quiet watcher's face. "Giles?"

"Centaurs are known for their cryptic messages," he returned, as he fell into step with his slayer. "It's said that they are able to read the fortune of our world from the positions of the stars."

"Which does explain the cryptic astrology babble," Buffy agreed, opening her senses to the dark night. "At least we learned one good thing: I don't need a baby-sitter anymore. Anything that approaches me and growls - well, that's slay-worthy," she finished, beaming brightly at her watcher.

Rolling his eyes at his ward, Giles put the Centaur's cryptic message to the back of his mind to be pondered another time. "And leave you to attack another innocent professor?" he quipped, watching as her face flushed at the reminder of her first night of patrol. "I think not," he continued, smiling as she huffed once and then moved ahead, stalking the woods with a vengeance, and once more making more noise than he thought physically possible for one so small. "I think not," he added, quietly this time as he smiled fondly at the back of her blonde head. He would never risk losing her so easily - not ever again.

* * *

Feeling more than a little ill at ease, Giles found himself trying to blend in with the strange trinkets that lined the headmaster's shelves behind him. There was great power in the room before him - a room that was filled with the inner-most circle of the Order of Phoenix - a room in which, from the blend of hostile and curious looks directed towards him, was a room in which he didn't belong. Then again, the Headmaster had asked for the voice of the Slayer there tonight, and knowing Buffy as well as he did, Giles found it only prudent to accept the invitation on her behalf. A certain amount of respect was demanded by the likes of the people that surrounded him - a respect that Buffy would forget when faced with their severe gazes and strange clothing - not to mention the bizarre disfigurement of one man in particular. Not that her lack of respect was terribly surprising, he admitted, for upon being called as the Chosen One, he imagined that it was difficult to work up enough respect for anyone when you were forced to face the darkness day in and out with little to no support from the world around her. Her typical response would have been, what had any of these people done for her? What, indeed.

"Welcome, welcome."

Startled from his thoughts, Giles straightened as Dumbledore swept into the room, his deep velvet, burgundy robes trailing majestically behind him as he paused to shake the occasional gnarled hand before settling into the deep recesses of his chair, his benevolent blue eyes sweeping the room.

"Thank you for coming, my friends," the old man continued, a smile directed at each individual in turn before steepling his fingers before him. "I understand the danger you place yourselves in by coming here tonight, but Arthur brings us news from the Ministry that involves us all very deeply. In addition," he stated, his eyes turning and locking on the watcher in the corner, "it seemed prudent to introduce you to someone. Mr. Giles, if you would please come forth."

Reluctantly, Giles pulled away from the wall's support, sharing a brief nod with those he knew before taking in the rest of the gazes of those gathered. Instantly a smattering of whispered conversations erupted in the small room as distrusting and curious gazes rebounded upon him.

"While I know you have already become acquainted with Arthur and Molly Weasley, as well as Minerva, Remus and Sirius, I'm not sure if you remember my other three guests," Dumbledore continued as he waved towards the three aged wizards and witches. "I present you with Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, and Alastor Moody," he stated as the three grudgingly nodded to the man. "My friends, may I introduce Rupert Giles, the watcher of Miss Buffy Summers, the slayer that has graciously offered her aid to our school."

"And how do we know for sure that he can be trusted?" Mad-Eye Moody asked, speaking for all of them as his eyes raked over Giles' form - a matter that was extremely disturbing for the watcher, seeing as how both eyes moved in different directions at the same time.

"Because he wouldn't have been able to cross the barrier and join us here tonight if he wasn't," Molly broke in, speaking for the others as she waved away Moody's obvious distrust before flashing a brilliant smile at the man that was becoming a quick friend to the other adults gathered. "And where is Buffy this evening?"

"Preparing for patrol as we speak," Giles returned, silently grateful for Molly's warmth in the face of such earnest distrust. Even if her rebuttal did earn her a harsh glare from the older crowd and a snicker from Sirius - a snicker that was, of course, quickly covered by an extremely bad version of a cough.

"Yes, well," Dumbledore broke in, trying to hide a smile himself as he brought the meeting to order with a small wave of his hand. "We will try not to keep you too long, then, for I know you prefer to patrol the forest with your charge."

What went unspoken was the knowledge that if Giles didn't arrive before Buffy was ready to depart, the odds were that she wouldn't bother waiting for him to return before heading out on her own. After the previous night's curious patrol, Giles had reported to Dumbledore first thing that morning, repeating news of the centaurs' cooperation and of the message that Firenze had delivered. And while Giles still stumbled over the planetary references, Dumbledore seemed strangely intrigued by the words - a gleam of what could almost be described as understanding sparkling in his blue eyes. But despite Giles' questioning gaze, the headmaster had refused to speak of the prophetic words and instead proceeded to tease the watcher about his obvious reluctance to allow his ward to patrol the dark night on her own. He was sure that the headmaster understood his reasoning, but that didn't prevent the old wizard from having his fun where he could find it.

"Arthur, your news, if you would?"

Startled from his thoughts, Giles hastily took his seat and watched as the Arthur Weasley stood before those gathered, his eyes grim.

"As you all know, my middle son, Percy, has been working to get alongside the new Minister Blitherton since Fudge's dismissal," Arthur began, his voice firm and his lips set in a hard line. "For the past few months Percy has been gathering information on the related Death Eater attacks and the lack of auror support for the wizarding community and... and he's been able to confirm that the directives are indeed coming from the highest level," he stated, his head shaking slightly as his somber mood infected all those gathered. "Percy has confirmed our fears: if Minister Blitherton isn't a direct plant of Lord Voldemort, then at best he is under Voldemort's control, most likely by the use of the Imperius Curse."

"Then all hope of Ministry help is lost," McGonagall murmured, her dark eyes narrowing as she spared a glance to the headmaster who looked as though he had been expecting such news. Actually, it wouldn't surprise her if Dumbledore had somehow known these tidings even before Arthur or young Percy did. It always seemed as though the aged headmaster just had a way of knowing things when the rest of the world was blind to it. In this case, the least he could have done was give a little warning to the rest. She hadn't even known that the headmaster had even _asked_ young Percy to begin the treacherous job of checking into the Minister - a man that Dumbledore himself had pushed for the high office.

"And Snape or Hagrid?" Arabella asked, her sharp eyes turning towards Dumbledore.

"We have not heard back from either," Albus confirmed, masking his own anxiety at his words as the somber mood only grew. It seemed as though their meetings hadn't seen a note of good news since... well, probably since the time when their numbers in this inner circle had been greater. A time when James and Lily Potter sat proudly amongst their number. A time long past and dead to them now.

"Then times are truly grave indeed," Arabella murmured, her small lips twisting into a fierce scowl. "Graver than even we have faced before."

"We alone are not strong enough to take down He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," Mundungus added, his voice gruff and grating as he scratched at his balding head, one hand resting lightly against a cane that supported his slight weight. "Perhaps if the castle unites we will have strength to win against his Death Eaters, but even with a slayer on our side we will be hard pressed to oppose both the Death Eaters _and_ his dark creatures," he stated, his eyes flickering towards the watcher.

"I am afraid that Mr. Fletcher is correct," Giles agreed, sighing as he pulled his glasses from the bridge of his nose and began polishing them on the hem of his sweater. "While Buffy is the most accomplished slayer that the Council has seen in ages - perhaps ever - she is still only one girl," he admitted, shrugging slightly as his eyes glanced towards Dumbledore. "She is remarkable in battle, but even she would be hard pressed when opposed by too many at once. In this case, Buffy won't be enough to stand against all of his dark creatures in an attack against the school."

"And that's not even mentioning Voldemort himself," Mad-Eye Moody growled, his one good eye snapping around the room as the group seemed to blanch as one against his blatant use of the Dark Lord's name. "Who here is strong enough to take him on in battle? Harry Potter?"

"No," Sirius quickly cut in, his blue eyes as cold as ice as they bore into the older man. "Not Harry," he continued, his voice daring someone to disagree. "He's just a child, and a child that has suffered enough at his hands for our world."

For a moment, silence reigned before Minerva shifted in the chair she rest in. "Sirius is right," she murmured, her eyes drifting to Albus. "I have been one of his teachers for the entirety of his magical education here at Hogwarts, and while he _is_ a gifted wizard," she stated, eyes drifting towards the boy's godfather, "aside from his parselmouth abilities, Harry has yet to show any remarkable strength. He is a child who was protected by his mother's love for him and thereby spared from You-Know-Who's killing curse."

"Then if not the boy, who then?" Moody demanded, voicing the one question that the group refused to think on just for the complete and utter lack of an answer. "No offense meant," he continued, his grizzled head nodding towards Dumbledore, "but defeating Grindewald was one thing, done long ago and at your prime. Voldemort has already demonstrated a power that surpasses his mentor," he pointed out, his eyes slipping over to lock with Dumbledore. "Could you take on Voldemort now?"

Sighing, Dumbledore's gaze slowly dipped down to the old and wrinkled hands that were clasped in his lap before him. Fifty years ago he had faced the darkest wizard that their world had ever seen. It had been a fierce battle that had nearly defeated him. Alastor was right in that he had been in his prime then. His body had been strong and he could harness the immense power that crackled in his limbs. But now... he could feel that power burning within him, waiting to be used. But he was old now. Old and weak and he knew, just as Alastor, that his old frame could no longer control the power that he contained. He could no longer use it. Which also meant that... "No, I cannot," he admitted, feeling the despair of those he held closest begin to thicken in the air around them. "But perhaps... perhaps there is another way," he murmured, his eyes drifting to someplace where no one else could follow. "Perhaps another way."

* * *

With a nod of his graying head, Remus Lupin made his rounds of the classroom, his eyes sweeping over the bowed heads of the children as they worked through their current assignment - an assignment that was, of course, different for all of them. With only twelve students and two teachers remaining at Hogwarts, it had been a necessary step to combine the children into one class in order to continue with their studies. A necessary step, but a difficult one at the same time. In order to do the children justice, he and Professor McGonagall had to somehow manage to teach seven different years in one classroom - not an easy task no matter how you looked upon it, especially when considering both he and the Headmistress had to teach outside of their favored disciplines.

At the soft clearing of a throat at the doorway behind him, Professor Lupin turned, his warm gray eyes lighting on the small figure of one Buffy Summers. "Miss Summers," he greeted, all eyes turning to the small blonde girl, dressed in a slimming black, long-sleeve muggle dress that clung to her small figure and dipped low over her bosom in a flare of red material, black boots clicking on the stone floor as she stepped in the room.

"Good morning, Professor Lupin," she returned, smiling brilliantly and pausing only as she took in the slanting rays of the sun that lit the small class. "Rather, afternoon," she corrected with a small shrug, absently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Smiling at the girl, Professor Lupin finished the distance to her side and gently clasped his hand on her small shoulder. "Class, I'm sure that all of you have seen Miss Summers around the castle, but allow me to formally introduce you," he said, amusedly watching as some of the students nearly fell out of their desks as they craned their necks to take in the girl that had been the talk of the castle ever since her arrival. "Hogwarts is honored to have the aid of The Slayer-"

"Chosen One," Buffy corrected, her smile faltering for the briefest moment as that simple title continued to bring back so much pain. Forcing a large smile, Buffy couldn't help but wonder how long it would take - how many months would have to pass - or how many years, before she would finally be able to think of herself as the Slayer once again. It had been Mr. Lyle that had ruined her namesake for her. To the Centre, she had been nothing more than the Slayer. They had labeled her as the Slayer, and it had been the Slayer that they had used to kill four members of the Watcher's Council, capture Jarod, and almost kill her friends. Now, she couldn't hear that word without constantly being reminded of all that she had done while under their control. She would never be under anyone's control ever again.

"Yes of course," Lupin agreed, his own smile dimming as he glimpsed something in Buffy's eyes that he had only seen one place before - and that was in the eyes of his own best friend. Sirius Black had carried that same haunted and tortured look upon his escape from Azkaban where he had endured things that most people should never have to. It was a look that had slowly faded from Sirius' eyes, but one that was never truly gone. It was also a look that Buffy seemed to be adept at hiding - yet one that made him wonder how someone so young could have such deadened eyes. While it was true that she was the Slayer and that she most likely faced horrors that he could not imagine - he had trouble believing that the horrors she faced could be so bad that they would affect her as much as they obviously did. If that were the case, surely Mr. Giles would share in that pain - yet this pain seemed to be one that was only carried by the small teenage girl - one that seemed much, much older than her years. Sighing, Remus realized that she carried a burden that had aged her beyond her years - same as with James and Lily's son.

Shaking his thoughts away, Remus smiled once again. "In any case, Miss Buffy Summers has volunteered to sit in on a few of our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes in order to lend her unique and first-hand expertise on many of the things that we've covered," he stated as he looked down on her blonde head. "If it's alright with you, Miss Summers, why don't we start by allowing the students to ask some of the questions that I'm sure they've been dying to know the answers to?"

"Only if you call me Buffy," the blonde returned, smiling at the professor as he nodded in agreement. Turning her attention back to the class, Buffy stepped back and hopped on the large desk that sat at the head of the room, smoothing her skirt over her legs and adjusting the wide shoulders of her top. "So, who's got a question?" she asked, eyes finally lifting to the smattering of students that faced her, green eyes inadvertently seeking out the familiar and reassuring smiles of her new friends.

By now the class had been prepped in the basics of what the Vampire Slayer was and everything that went along with it. The only stuff they didn't know was the nitty gritty details of being one Buffy Summers. And that, of course, was what they were curious about. "How do you locate all of the vampires and demons and stuff?" one boy asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. "Do you travel all over?"

"Actually, all the bad stuff usually comes to me," Buffy explained, smiling wryly at the young boy. "I live in Sunnydale, California, which happens to be the Hellmouth," she added, and at the blank expressions on most faces, she quickly continued. "The Hellmouth is exactly what it sounds like - the mouth to Hell. It's a doorway between Earth and a hell dimension. It's closed now, but the bad guys keep trying to open it and it's like a magnet for all the bad stuff out there. They're all drawn to Sunnydale," she finished, waving nonchalantly at her words, even though the rest of the class had paled at her description. Seeing this, Buffy shrugged her shoulders, smiling innocently. "Maybe it's something that you have to live with on a daily business to believe."

"If this Hellmouth is as bad as you say it is," Hermione broke in, her tone hesitant as she asked the question that she had been dying to know the answer to since the day that she first learned of Buffy's true identity, "then how can you leave it unattended to be here at Hogwarts?"

"I didn't," Buffy countered, smirking slightly. "Faith is watching the Hellmouth - technically, I guess it _is_ her turn."

"Who's Faith?" Harry asked, watching as a play of emotions filtered across Buffy's features before finally settling on a fond smile.

"She's the other Chosen One," Buffy stated simply, watching as everyone started in confusion, including Professor Lupin.

"But I thought the whole point of the Chosen One was that there was only one chosen - one called per generation," Ginny interrupted, looking to Hermione for confirmation of her words. "You can't have a new slayer until the previous one dies-"

"Exactly," Buffy said, grinning widely at the group.

"Which means that you... died?" Harry supplied, paling slightly as Buffy shrugged off his words. While she had mentioned something to that effect in passing the first night that they met, none of them had truly given it any thought. If there was one thing that they had learned about Buffy, it was that often there were many strange and confusing things that left her lips. Eventually one learned to dismiss the outside chatter to get to the real meaning behind her words.

"Three years ago,"Buffy confirmed, smirking at the class's stunned expressions. If she thought that the castle was in an uproar about her before, it would be nothing compared to the talk that would be going on after this all let out. Sighing, she quickly held up her hand to forestall any further questions. "Alright, let's try this a different way," she suggested, eyes skipping over to the Professor. "We'll be here all day going back and forth if we keep doing the question/answer routine - it'll be easier if I just lay it down for you and then if you have any more questions, we can go from there." When she got no complaints, Buffy settled back.

"Okay, I was called about five years ago, when I was fifteen, and have been fighting the big bad ever since," she stated as her gaze drifted to the waning sunlight that crept through the tall windows that lined the room. "That basically means that every night for the last five years I've dealt with the run of the mill vampire, demons, and other dark creatures. The highlights, I guess you could say," she continued, grinning slightly, "of my career have been burning down my highschool gym my first year, destroying the Master in my second, preventing Acathla from sucking this world into Hell my third, and destroying the Mayor of my town who had reached ascension and turned into a nasty snake demon last year - which of course includes blowing up my high school on graduation day," she finished with a bright smile, earning a chuckle or two from the students.

"Unfortunately," she continued, a small frown pulling at her lips, "before I could kick the Master's ass my second year, he thoroughly kicked mine," she added while tilting her head to the side, brushing her hair back and showing the scars that marred her slender neck. "He killed me long enough to call in my replacement, Kendra, but not well enough to count me out for good," Buffy explained, her expression dimming as she thought back to the girl that had been cut down by Drusilla. "Kendra was killed a year later," Buffy murmured, her eyes slowly drifting down until they locked on her hands, clasped before her. Even after all this time, it was still difficult to think of what had happened that night - of all that she had lost. Sighing, she shook the heavy thoughts away and forced a smile for the silent class. "Her death caused her replacement to be called, Faith, who's currently watching the Hellmouth and freeing me up to come and try and help out here," she finished, her smile firmly back in place and the dark memories banished to the furthest corner of her mind until they could be properly dealt with later. "Thus explaining why we're now the Chosen Two, rather than the Chosen One. Any other questions?"

Instantly a score of hands shot in the air, punctuated by a volley of questions from students who didn't bother with the whole waiting for their turn. "How'd you die?" "What's a Master?" "Who's Acathla?" "How'd you blow up your school?"

Smiling amusedly at the children's enthusiasm and the way that Buffy fielded their questions, almost tirelessly, Remus reclined back against the far wall. Five years. A slayer for five years. He couldn't help but be impressed, for he knew for a fact that most Slayers didn't even survive their first. The girl was good - that much was obvious. And thanks to Dumbledore, they had her on their side in the fight against Lord Voldemort. Perhaps... perhaps that would be enough.

Pensively, he watched the small girl as her gaze drifted around the room, smiling at each student in turn as she answered their eager questions... yet always allowing her eyes to linger on one student in particular. Straightening slightly, Remus watched as his young ward's glittering green eyes remained locked on the girl, a slight smile lifting his lips. At the very least, it seemed that at least one good thing would come of her visit.


	13. Chapter 13

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 13  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"For something to live, something must be sacrificed."**  
-The X-Files Game-

With the waning of the afternoon, the bright May sunshine beat down upon the green and grassy grounds of Hogwarts, shining in all of its glory with nary a cloud in the sky to ruin the beautiful spring day. A spring day that people of all ages hurried to take advantage of, breaking free of the castle confines for the first time in months; mothers, fathers, and children young and old lounging on the grassy grounds. It was a picture that was quite unusual for Hogwarts, but one that was welcomed nonetheless. It was a day in which everyone could almost forget the reasons that drove them all to the safe haven to be found within the most prestigious wizarding school in all of Europe, under the gentle guidance of one Headmaster Albus Dumbledore - a wizard who was currently lounging beside the calm waters of the lake, conversing with the assorted merpeople in vividly bright purple robes.

From her position across campus from the eccentric wizard, Buffy watched this exchange through wide green eyes. "And you're sure that I can't slay them?" she asked, grimacing as a particularly slimy green mer-person broke the surface of the water, its arms moving wildly about its body before diving back down below the surface of the glittering pool.

"Quite positive," Hermione assured absently from beside her, a large textbook spread before her on the green grass and thoroughly grateful for the brisk breeze that made the beating sun just that much more bearable, her stifling black robe lying forgotten on the grass beside her.

"Because back in Sunnydale they would definitely fall under the category of those which I would slay first, ask Giles about later," the blonde continued as she finally turned away from the odd sight, adjusting her small white tank over her tan shorts before renewing her stake-sharpening efforts.

"Which is why Giles continues to patrol with you each night," Harry added with a small grin, glancing up from his game of wizard's chess in time to catch the small blonde's scowl. The past few weeks had passed in a blur for the group at Hogwarts - living in a little protective bubble while the world passed by unnoticed without them. Each day was a monotonous routine of classes, homework, meals with family and friends, and time spent just hanging out and having fun. It didn't take long for Buffy and her watcher to become integrated into that tight-knit circle, their afternoons becoming intermingled before their nights brought them along different paths. Thus, it was no secret that Buffy continued to argue against her watcher's persistent presence for each and every one of her patrols, despite her many arguments of the freedom that she had experienced back in Sunnydale. It was as though all of her words fell on deaf ears.

"Can't even understand the simple concept of a watcher, i.e. one who watches," she grumbled comically before returning his grin. After awakening a few hours ago, Buffy had grabbed a small blade and headed outdoors, quickly stumbling upon the group of teens that were scattered on the grassy lawns of Hogwarts. Per usual, Hermione was lost in some book or another while Neville and Ginny flirted shamelessly beside her, Harry and Ron engrossed in yet another game of chess - Ron winning, as always. Within minutes she had gathered enough wood from the forest and joined the little group, absently shaping her favorite weapon while the conversation drifted from one lazy topic to another.

Sighing, Buffy stilled her hands and tilted her head back, allowing the sun's golden rays to warm her skin. Sometimes, if the breeze stilled just enough, she could almost imagine that she was back in Sunnydale and that the rustling of the leaves in the forest was really the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby beaches. Almost. Almost. Smiling softly, Buffy's mind drifted to thoughts of the friends that she hadn't seen in so long, her mind inevitably fixating on everything that she had left behind in that small California town...

Shaking the thoughts away, Buffy opened her green eyes and allowed them to settle on the assortment of old fashioned brooms that littered the lawn around them. "So what's the what with the brooms, anyway?" she asked, remembering her unasked question from weeks ago. With the lazy afternoon sun beating down upon them, she hadn't even thought to ask why so many of the people that littered Hogwarts' lawn carried them.

"We were flying earlier," Ron replied absently, a fierce look of concentration on his face as he eyed the board laid out before him.

"Flying?" Buffy parroted, a slim brow raising as she eyed the brooms skeptically. "You're kidding, right?" she asked, thinking back to one of her favorite childhood shows, _Bewitched._ But as the group slowly raised their eyes from their assorted tasks and met her gaze evenly, Buffy had her answer. "You mean you guys can really fly? On brooms?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch as she stared at the brooms with a new eye, a slow smile lifting her lips.

"Of course we can," Ron confirmed, smiling despite himself at the wonder that was plastered across Buffy's face. Sometimes Buffy's eyes made her look so much older than the rest of them - eyes haunted with a look that separated her from the group at times. But now, with her face lit up with child-like wonder - well, she looked so young that he couldn't help but share a grin with his friends. "Would you like to see?" he asked, the game forgotten as he quickly climbed to his feet, grabbing his old Shooting Star from the ground beside him.

Bouncing to her feet, Buffy could only watch as Ron put one leg around the slim wood and then push off lightly from the ground, the broom lifting from the ground and carrying him high into the cloudless blue sky. "Wow," she murmured, the words an understatement to the wonder she felt as he floated effortlessly in the sky, his broom reacting to his slightest touch and causing him to zoom dizzyingly high above the grassy grounds.

"Show off," Ginny laughed, rolling her eyes at her brother's antics as she snuggled beside her boyfriend.

"But that's amazing!" Buffy countered, a large smile lifting her lips as she felt lighter just by watching the redhead zoom around the castle grounds.

"No, if you want to see amazing, you should see Harry on the broom," Neville countered as he grinned at the teen who continued to lounge beside the forgotten chess board.

"Harry, you fly too?" Buffy asked, her eyes drifting down until she met Harry's green eyes.

"Does he fly?" Hermione asked, shaking her head with a pained smile. "Harry's probably the best flier that Hogwarts has seen in one hundred years," she said, grinning as Harry blushed a deep scarlet at her words. She would never be a fan of the broom, but that didn't mean that she couldn't recognize talent when she saw it. And if there was one thing to be said about Harry Potter, aside from his connection with You-Know-Who, it was his talent when it came to flying. It was impossible not to be awed by it.

"I wouldn't say that," Harry countered with a weak grin as he slowly climbed to his feet, absently brushing the grass from his trousers before lifting his eyes to the small girl beside him. "But, if you'd like I can take you up," he offered, feeling his ears begin to burn as Buffy beamed up at him.

"I'd love to!" she quickly agreed, her eyes shining as the lanky teen bent down to retrieve his broom, the polished wood gleaming under the sun's bright rays. "But if you drop me, you're _so_ in trouble, Mister," she warned, wagging a slender finger before his eyes as he mounted his broom, indicating for her to sit behind him.

"I won't drop you," he promised, flushing even more as Buffy's small arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Then, ignoring the snickers from his gathered friends, Harry kicked off from the ground, the broom lifting slowly into the air as Buffy squealed, her grip tightening almost painfully as she pressed herself flush against his back, her head burrowing against the soft material of his shirt. "But I do need to breathe," he grunted, her hold loosening slightly as she finally lifted her head and took in the ground that was rapidly falling beneath them.

"Harry," she murmured, her voice filled with awe and unable to say more as she felt the cool wind ruffle her hair, billowing it gently around her face and shoulders. And even as they rose even more gently into the cloudless sky, Buffy felt her confidence return as she realized that she trusted the boy that sat before her completely. He wouldn't let anything happen to her and she knew that if she fell, he would catch her. Amazed by this, Buffy cocked her head and looked at the messy black hair that ruffled before her, caught in the light breeze. Only three weeks earlier Buffy had told Percy Weasley that trust was something that people had to earn from her - that she no longer gave it so willingly. Yet in three short weeks Buffy had integrated herself so completely with Harry and his friends that she found herself walking along that narrow bridge of trust. Smiling at the thought, she tentatively leaned back, closing her eyes and reveling in the sun's warm rays.

"I'm afraid to admit," Ron began as he gently landed on the ground beside his friends, his eyes following theirs to the couple that sat drifting on the broom so high above, "that our boy Harry is completely smitten."

"You think?" Ginny returned, her voice laced with sarcasm that was belied by her fond smile. As a squeal rent the air, she watched as Harry's broom dipped and began to plummet to the ground, Buffy's blonde hair trailing behind them like the tail of a comet as the raven-haired boy changed their angle of descent in a move so daring that it only could have been pulled off by Harry Potter, the broom arcing once more into the sky before zipping in dizzying circles around the castle. "And it's about time, too," she said, unknowingly echoing Ron's words of a few weeks earlier, her hand seeking out Neville's as Buffy's laughter rang out over the castle grounds.

Smiling in triumph at his sister's words, Ron flashed a grin at Hermione before allowing his eyes to trace his friend's progress in the sky for a few minutes more. And then, before he even realized what he was doing, he found his own hand tangled in Hermione's, a soft smile lifting her lips and saying so much more as she abandoned her book and moved until she was settled beside him, his arm draping across her shoulders and pulling her close. Together, the two couples watched Buffy and Harry twirl about above them as the sun continued its trek across the sky, stopping only as its rays began to dip below the far horizon. As the two finally settled on the ground, the unusual sound of Buffy's laughter ringing around them and a bright grin lifting Harry's lips, Ron couldn't help but think of how today had to be the best day that any of them had had in too long to remember. Harry's smile and Buffy's laughter alone were testament to that fact. Then again, Ron always did have a problem with speaking too soon.

"Blimey, Harry," Neville said, grinning widely at the two, "it's too bad that we don't have a quidditch team anymore. I bet Buffy would make an incredible beater!" he chirped, his smile faltering only as the weight of his words became apparent to everyone. "Oh - I-I didn't," he began, his voice trembling as Ginny squeezed his hand reassuringly, all eyes turning to Ron as the redhead paled, his eyes dimming visibly before he awkwardly stumbled to his feet and began making his way across the grass at a fast trot.

Confused, Buffy felt her smile slip as Hermione quickly abandoned her place on the grass and hurried after her boyfriend, Ginny following not far behind. "Okay, what did I miss?" she asked, absently rubbing her hands on her arms to ease her prickled skin as the cool of the coming night began to settle around them.

Sighing softly, Harry reached down and picked up his abandoned robe, draping it without thought over Buffy's shoulders. "Fred and George Weasley," he began softly, feeling his eyes begin to burn in that familiar way, "Ron and Ginny's older twin brothers - two years ahead of us - were beaters on the Gryffindor quidditch team up until their graduation two years ago." Shaking his head, Harry's eyes drifted over to the spot where both Ginny and Hermione knelt around Ron, their arms wrapped around each other in a familiar embrace. "They were killed in a Death Eater attack on their joke shop just after the start of last year," he said simply, remembering the two boys that had continued to make people laugh, even as their world began to come apart at the seams around them.

"Oh no," Buffy whispered, her heart tightening at the admission as she turned wide eyes to the trio. "I - I didn't know," she murmured, finally understanding the looks and hidden meanings that she had sensed in the Weasley family. To lose two of their own... it was a loss that she could sympathize with.

"You won't find a person here at Hogwarts who hasn't lost someone that they knew or loved in this war," Neville added softly, his expression distant as he slowly gathered his and Ginny's things.

And from the way his own eyes brightened with heartfelt emotion, Buffy knew that Neville wasn't just speaking of the Weasley twins. Instead, the shy teen seemed to prove Harry's point. Biting her lip, Buffy absently drew the warm cloak around her shoulders as she realized, perhaps for the first time, why she felt as though she fit in so well here. The castle was filled with battle-weary refugees - all lost souls who had to face their worst nightmares and come out on top... or at least out to the point where they had no choice but to keep going, day by awful day and just make the most of it. They were all survivors - even if the things and people they were surviving were losses so great that it was crippling to those who kept on.

"We should get back before Sirius sends out a search party," Harry said casually as he mounted his broom and lifted off from the ground, hovering absently before the others. And even though his words were meant to lessen the tension and to bring back some levity to the wonderful day they all had, he couldn't help the small scowl that his own words brought. Sirius' over-protective streak was another trait that was quickly becoming notorious amongst the castle residents. It seemed that Harry's penchant for finding trouble didn't sit too well with the godfather who was left with the burden of trying to keep one Harry Potter safe.

Sharing a sympathetic smile with Harry, Buffy nodded her agreement before her eyes drifted back to the trio, settled on the grass a few short yards away. "What about-" she began, her voice breaking off as a pained groan split the air behind her. Turning quickly, Buffy was moving towards Harry even as his face paled of all color, one hand pressed firmly against the lightning-shaped scar that marred his forehead, eyes pinched closed against some sort of pain. "Harry, what's-" she began again, only to scramble forward as he tumbled from his broom, easily catching him and settling the teen's body on the cushion of soft grass, his head pillowing in her lap. "Harry?" she asked again, her voice growing panicked as Harry groaned again, lost to their world.

"Ginny, Neville, go get Sirius!" Ron ordered as he and Hermione fell to their knees beside their fallen friend, having been alerted by Buffy's terrified cries.

"Ron, what's wrong with him?" she asked, her small hands easily holding Harry down as his body began to shake.

"It's his connection with You-Know-Who," the redhead explained as his sympathetic eyes swept over Harry's trembling form. Even though Harry had gone through this so many times in the last few years, it was still difficult to watch. So hard to sit there and know that his best friend was in so much pain and that he was powerless to do anything to help.

"As near as Dumbledore can figure out," Hermione added, her voice soft, "Harry is connected to Him through his curse scar that reflected the death curse when he was a baby," she explained, absently seeking out Ron's warm and calloused hand. "Whenever You-Know-Who feels some kind of intense emotion Harry has a vision of You-Know-Who and this happens," she finished, indicating Harry's prone body with a wave of her hand.

Feeling herself begin to shake, Buffy closed her eyes against the sight of Harry's pain. She couldn't do this. Buffy was a person of action. When there was something wrong or when someone was in trouble, she would go in there and kick someone's ass and save the day. It was what she did. She didn't just sit around and watch while someone suffered, helpless to do anything. Fighting the urge to run away from this pain, Buffy quickly opened her eyes, wincing as Harry ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. "Stop, you're going to hurt yourself," she murmured, reaching forward and easily pulling his hand away from his forehead - recoiling at the sight of the blood that oozed from the vividly bright red scar. "Oh God," she murmured, her voice hoarse as she lifted haunted eyes to his two friends. "Can't someone do anything for him? I mean, you have all this magic," she whispered, hating the tremor in her voice - at the weakness that it showed.

Biting her lip, Hermione locked eyes with Ron's before turning back to the small blonde. "Before he disappeared," she began, her voice hesitant, "Harry said that Professor Snape created a potion that would neutralize the link while under its effects."

"So why doesn't he take it?" Buffy retorted, lashing out because she couldn't just let it all just sit inside of her - all of the frustration.

"Because Harry thinks the pain is worth it if he finds out something useful..."

* * *

The cold was all around him - in him - infusing his limbs with a core of ice that would never melt, no matter how warm the fire that flickered before him nor how potent the potion that he would blend to ease his aging limbs. The cold was in the air he breathed - dank and wet with moisture from the deep earth's walls, in the feel of the stone that made up this stone fortress - his home, his prison, and in the people that he surrounded himself with - allies and enemies all. The cold was all around him, and somehow Severus Snape, current Death Eater and former Potions Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, knew that even when he abandoned this farce and returned to his true home, the cold would never again leave. Pushing his morbid thoughts away, Snape watched through slitted holes in his mask as the Dark Lord seethed on his equally dark throne, red snake eyes burning with anger as his long nails tapped on the black arm of his chair.

"I don't want excuses, Lucius," the Lord's deep voice hissed as he surged forward, eyes burning into the tall man that stood before him. "I want answers."

"Master, there have been reports that something has been destroying our forces in the Forbidden Forest outside of Hogwarts," Malfoy Senior quickly replied, his tone schooled in just the right mix of confidence and reverence for the being that sat before him. "Nothing has survived an encounter in order to provide more details."

Slitted nostrils flaring, Voldemort leaned back against the hard planes of his throne, his pencil-thin lips spread in a hard frown. "Then Dumbledore is aware of our efforts," he mused, red eyes narrowing slightly. And then, with an imperious wave of his hand that caused all Death Eaters to recoil in fear, the Dark Lord smiled. "It matters not," he declared, his tone even as his snake, Nagini, pulsed and writhed at his feet. "See that a group of our best are sent to the Forest," he ordered, a slow smile lifting his deadened lips. "Find out what's been at work there. And kill it."

* * *

Time seemed to pass with a snail's pace as the bright afternoon sunshine finally faded into the falling dusk, the trio huddled on the dewy grounds with Harry's limp form spread out before them. Minutes passed and still Harry refused to waken from whatever place his connection had drawn him to, his face pale and scrunched in agony, blood seeping from his scar as Buffy firmly prevented his hands from doing any more damage to the puckered skin. Soon both Hermione and Ron lifted their wands, casting a lumos charm and sending their shadowed world into light, anxious eyes locked on Harry's prone form. Then, just as Buffy thought that she would go crazy if things remained in that tense frame a moment longer, Harry's body began to relax, his green eyes blinking open and staring owlishly at their worried faces. "Harry?" she asked, her breath hitching and catching in her throat as his eyes rolled back in his head before finding focus once more.

"Voldemort knows," he moaned, his voice cracking as Harry strained to form a coherent thought outside of the pain that threatened to split his skull in two. "He knows that something's in the forest, killing his beasts," he murmured, his voice a slur as his green eyes found focus for just a moment, locking on Buffy's face. "He's going to kill you," he whispered before darkness claimed him, his body finally succumbing to the pain and granting him relief from its bite.

Stunned, Buffy opened her mouth and then closed it again as frantic voices began to echo in the dark night, a small contingent of wizards spilling from the castle and swooping down upon their location. Feeling as though she was in a daze, Buffy watched as both Hermione and Ron stood to meet the onrush of wizards, only moving herself as Sirius leaned low and scooped his limp godson into his arms. And then they were gone, everyone's voices crying out and overlapping with one another as they headed back towards the castle, the Boy Who Lived firmly entrenched in their safe bubble - leaving Buffy alone and forgotten in the dark night.

Shivering slightly in the chill air, Buffy drew the ends of Harry's dark cloak around her bare shoulders, absently pulling the cloth against her face as she inhaled the musky boy smell that was all Harry. Sighing, her eyes drifted to the familiar forest that had become a second home, of sorts, to her in the weeks that she had hunted their depths. Just as the many cemeteries in Sunnydale had become her hunting grounds, so had Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest. And it seemed as though the game was up. How many times had Giles drilled the fact into her head that her placement at Hogwarts, known only to those who resided in the castle, was one of Dumbledore's greatest strategic moves? The very fact that Voldemort wouldn't know about her presence until it was too late, and the fact that she was destroying his force, night by night, was a pivotal part of whatever grand scheme the old wizard was cooking up. And now the cat was out of the bag. If Harry was to be believed, Voldemort, if not knowing exactly who she was, did indeed know that something was out there. The surprise was gone and Voldemort wanted her blood.

Shrugging her small shoulders, Buffy smiled at that thought. It wouldn't be the first time that a Big Bad was out for her blood, nor, she bet, would it be the last. With that thought, Buffy abandoned the dark night and slowly made her way up the steep steps of the castle before stepping into its massive grand entrance - where she was met by a stern looking witch whose expression seemed to be disapproving, even when she was smiling.

"Miss Summers," Professor McGonagall greeted with a small nod, "Headmaster Dumbledore would like to see you in his office."

Sighing the sigh of a martyr about to be led to her death, Buffy felt her shoulders slump as she followed the tall witch up the curving staircase and to the gargoyle statue that usually hid the wizard's office - only to find the curving staircase already opened and revealed. "Not a good sign," she murmured as she left the witch's side and began up the stone stairs, only lifting her head as she cleared the last step, the open doorway revealing Giles, pacing in a frenzied line. "News travels fast around here," she commented, smiling wryly as her watcher pivoted towards her, a large frown pulling at his lips. Rolling her eyes at his obvious agitation, she lightly brushed by him and settled into one of the large chairs that faced Dumbledore's desk.

"We have been told of Harry's vision," Dumbledore returned gravely, confirming Buffy's suspicions as he steepled his fingers before him. "Buffy, Lord Voldemort is aware of your efforts, and that makes your job that much more dangerous."

"It's no big," Buffy returned, her tone flippant as she shrugged casually - a shrug that instantly caused her watcher to catapult himself into the chair beside her, his body rigid with tension.

"Buffy, I don't want you out there anymore," he cut in, his tone brisk and cold as he leaned forward, eyes boring into her own.

Startled, Buffy felt her temper spark at his words. "Geez, overreact much?" she growled, quickly crossing her arms across her chest as she glared at her watcher.

Ignoring her words, Giles frowned at his ward. "Voldemort will be openly targeting you-"

"Well he was bound to find out about me sooner or later," Buffy cut in, scowling at his show of over-protectiveness. For crying out loud, she was the Slayer. This was her job. Her sworn duty! He was never this bad - certainly not when he tried to send her to her death against the Master when she was only sixteen! "Giles, what's with you?" she asked, voicing her frustrations out loud for the first time. "I've been going up against the Big Bad every night for the last five years! I've faced down the Master and the Mayor - I even sent Angel to Hell for this freaking world! It doesn't matter what's happened before because nothing has changed! I'm still the Slayer and this is still my duty!" she cried, her face flushed and her breathing heavy. And as a heavy silence fell over the room, Buffy immediately regretted her words as she slowly shook her head against the stares. "And it's not like it's anything new," she continued before Giles could launch his own retort. "It's public knowledge in the demon world that there's a Slayer in Sunnydale. People have been after my blood for years," she added, her voice quieting.

"It's different here," Giles insisted before taking a slow breath, willing himself to regain some measure of calm. "Voldemort is not just a vampire who will try to ambush you," he explained, falling back on cold and calm reason and logic. "He's much more dangerous."

"Listen," Buffy cut in, wearily rubbing away the ache that was already beginning to settle right behind her eyes, "all Moldy-Wart really knows is that there's something in the forest that's killing his forces. He doesn't know that it's a slayer. He doesn't know it's me," she said, her tone even as she tore her eyes away from her watcher and met Dumbledore's blue eyes - eyes that, for the first time, she couldn't read.

"It is your decision as to what you want to do now," he supplied, his eyes skipping to his old student before finally settling on the small girl that contained so much power. "We will all understand if you wanted to return to-"

"I'm only gonna say it one more time," Buffy interrupted, her tone cold as she stood from the chair, her features dropping into a hard mask. "Nothing has changed," she said, eyes glaring into her watcher before she swept from the room, Harry's cloak trailing around her slim form.

Wincing as the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind his slayer's small form, Giles could only shake his head as he questioned, for the hundredth time, his decision to uproot her from all that she knew to bring her to this place. Until now, he had thought it the best decision that he had ever made. While he knew that she missed her friends and Sunnydale, and the support that Xander, Willow, Oz and Faith had always given her, the changes that were evident in his slayer more than made up for any lingering doubts. She was getting better - he knew this. While she still refused to talk about what had happened during those long months of her imprisonment, or of what happened after she finally broke free of Lyle's hold, his slayer was beginning to smile more and drift away to her thoughts less. He had even seen her laughing earlier today. Laughing. He couldn't even remember the last time she had actually laughed - laughed as though for a moment she had forgotten that any of the past year had ever happened. Before his Slayer had ever been touched by darkness. This place and this fight against evil had been good for her... but that was before he had ever had to deal with the fact that Buffy may actually be in real danger. He knew that she could handle the various dark creatures that polluted the Forbidden Forest, but an aimed attack on her by Voldemort's forces?

"She is a remarkable woman," Dumbledore said into the heavy silence, reminding Giles that he wasn't alone with his musings.

Feeling his frustration sharpen into a spike of anger, Giles' gaze settled on his old headmaster. "A foolish girl," he corrected, his tone frosty as he abandoned his chair. "She doesn't understand her own mortality," he murmured as he began towards the door, his hand freezing on the knob as Dumbledore's soft words reached his ears.

"On the contrary, I think that is something that she is quite aware of."


	14. Chapter 14

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 14  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"When tempest-tossed, embrace chaos."**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

Okay, so she lied. Lied big time. Not like she'd never done that before. Sighing softly, Buffy finished buttoning up her heavy khaki cords and then pulled the black long-sleeve cotton shirt over her head, absently twisting her long blonde hair back in a loose French twist before bending down to retrieve her Docs. And to think that Giles had nearly fainted at the price of the trendy shoes - but come on, steel toe, 'nuff said. Smiling at the memory, she hummed absently to herself as she strapped a small dagger to the small of her back, securing another one against her ankle, and then grabbed her matching down vest, checking to make sure all the appropriate weapons were stashed in their normal places before asking the torch to douse itself, cloaking the room in shadows.

Earlier that evening she had outright lied to Dumbledore and Giles when she said that Voldemort knowing about her and trying to kill her meant nothing. Because it did mean something. Just not the something that Giles and Dumbledore were thinking of. She was being honest when she told them that she wasn't frightened at the thought of mean old Moldy Wort setting a trap for her - trying to kill her. As she had stated plain enough, been there, done that too many times to even try counting. However, what _did_ worry her was the thought of Giles being outside with her and getting hurt in that trap.

Buffy stilled with her hand on the handle of the door, her features creased in a tired frown. It was still far too easy for her to remember that night - the night that her life changed forever. She hadn't seen it coming, and perhaps that was the worst part. She had come home, just like any other night, only to find a strange car in the driveway. From there, things only went downhill as Mr. Lyle shot her so full of those damn drugs that she couldn't do anything against him... couldn't do anything to prevent him from pulling that trigger. With two shots Lyle had ended her mother's life in a spray of blood on their cream-colored walls. She had died that night because of her - because of who she was, and the hell if she'd ever lose anyone that she loved again because of that fact.

Strengthening her resolve, Buffy tightened her grip on the handle and turned it slowly, cracking the door to their shared room. As the sound of Giles' soft snoring met her ears, Buffy released the breath that she hadn't consciously realized that she had been holding, a grim smile lifting her lips. Pushing the door open, she crossed into the room and moved to her Watcher's side, his body slumped over the large desk, scrolls and books scattered before him. As she picked up his forgotten cup, empty now of tea, Buffy realized once again how she'd really have to thank Hermione for the sleeping potion that she had supplied just a few short hours ago. That the girl had been suspicious was without doubt, but in the end she had relented and had fetched the potion that she had been talking about a few days earlier - and the obvious results proved that the proud Gryffindor truly did know her potions.

Pushing her thoughts away, Buffy gently reached down and lifted her watcher from his chair, dragging him into the other room and depositing his dead weight on the bed. She bent down and unlaced his shoes, slipping them from his feet and retreating to snag a spare blanket from the other room. As the heavy cotton material settled around his lean frame, Buffy leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss against his smooth forehead, smothering a smile as he snored in protest, shifting under the blanket.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," she promised, knowing without a doubt that her watcher was going to be mad come tomorrow morning, but not really caring. He'd have to forgive her in the end, because she'd already lost her mother to her duty. She couldn't stand it if she lost him too. That would be the final straw and she knew without a doubt that it would destroy her. It was better for them both, then, this way. "I love you," she whispered, voicing the words that both knew, but neither said. Smiling, she cast the room into shadowed darkness and crept into the dark hallway beyond, her favorite sword held in hand. She had a job to do.

* * *

The infirmary was quiet at this time of night, Madam Pomfrey having shooed away the concerned hordes that crowded around Harry's bed - somehow managing to convince all of his well-wishers, friends and guardians alike that rest was the best medicine for the feeling that his head was was about to be cleaved in two. Which left him in one of the places that he hated most. Groaning, Harry's eyes traced over the stones that made up the room's ceiling, the ward quiet and the beds empty around him. In the past seven years that Harry had attended Hogwarts, his visits to the Infirmary had been far too often for his liking. Whether it be mind-numbing headaches from his scar or the regrowing and mending of bones from various Quidditch accidents, Harry had come to detest the room and everything it stood for - not healing, but rather keeping him captive until his warden decided on a reluctant release. Secretly, he was sure that Madam Pomfrey would keep him in in the large room forever if she had her way.

Sighing, Harry pushed the thoughts away and focused on what had brought him to this place: his vision, of course. So Voldemort knew that something was destroying his forces in the Forbidden Forest and was having Draco's dad send something out there to stop it... to stop her. Buffy. In his brief moment of lucidity before darkness swept him away, Harry clearly remembered Buffy's beautiful green eyes staring down at him, eyes filled with such concern and horror - concern and horror for him, the freak of the Boy Who Lived. It had been a while since he'd had a vision and no one had thought to mention that oddity that made up one Harry Potter. Well, now there was no hiding the fact.

Sighing once more, Harry slowly rolled over on the small bed, careful not to jostle his glasses. He wondered which he would get from Buffy - the pity or the distance. It was always one or the other. When people learned about all the great stuff that came with being the Boy Who Lived, it either freaked them out and they began keeping their distance or else they looked at him with that horrible expression - the pity suffocating him. He didn't need their pity. He didn't need anyone's pity. And seeing as how Buffy seemed pretty accustomed to weird stuff, he knew it was the pity that he'd be getting. And to think that things had been going so well between them... If Harry closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the feel of her small arms wrapped around his waist as the wind whipped past them, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears...

"Harry, are you awake?"

Startled, Harry rolled over and sat up, absently adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose while his other hand tried to smother his wayward black hair. "Hermione?" he asked, eyes locking on his best friend's slender figure as she parted from the shadows and tiptoed to his bedside. "What are you doing here? If Madam Pomfrey catches-"

"How are you feeling?" Hermione interrupted, her cheer obviously forced as she smiled nervously, her hands twisting her black robes that hung open over her skirt and blouse.

"The smallest of headaches," Harry assured, eyes narrowing as Hermione's eyes looked everywhere but at him. "Madam Pomfrey is just being a dictator, as always," he added, a frown touching his lips. "But you didn't come sneaking in here to ask about my health," he continued, watching as Hermione flushed at his words. "What's wrong?"

For a moment, it was as though Hermione debated on saying anything, which was just ridiculous seeing as how she obviously came all this way to tell him something. Then, with a dramatic sigh she rolled her eyes and brushed a wave of auburn hair from her shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing," she said, her tone belying her words. "I just ran into Buffy after dinner," she continued, a frown pulling at her lips,"and she was acting strange, even for her."

Ignoring the slight, Harry felt his frown mirror his friend's. "Strange how?"

"Well, she asked for a bottle of sleeping potion, of all things," she whispered, obviously trying to play down the importance of such a strange request. "Said some nonsense about not being able to sleep well at night," she added, hazel eyes finally meeting his. "I... I just thought you'd want to know."

"Harry, dear, who are you talking to?"

Eyes going wide at the sound of the nurse's voice, Hermione waved a hasty goodbye before beating a quick retreat, her tall form slipping through the door and into the hall just as the nurse stepped from her office at the far end of the ward. "Uh - Dobby," Harry called out, hoping that he wasn't getting the little house elf into trouble. "He was just making sure that I didn't want anything from the kitchens," he fibbed, forcing a bright smile that seemed to put the witch at ease.

"Well, just be sure that you get some rest," she called out, shaking her head slightly before turning on her heel and returning to her office, the door closing softly behind her.

"Not that there's anything better to do," Harry muttered crossly, alone in his solitude once more. Sighing, he slowly leaned back into the soft pillows propped behind him, his mind wandering to Hermione's words. So Buffy wanted a sleeping potion because she wasn't sleeping well at night. He wasn't surprised at that admission, but the part that caused a tight ball of dread to form in his stomach - most likely the same thought that brought Hermione out past curfew to give him the message - was the fact that because Buffy was a Slayer, magic didn't affect her like it did everyone else. A sleeping potion would do nothing for her. Which begged the question, why did Buffy want one when she was well aware of that fact?

Frowning, Harry's gaze drifted to the tall window that was set into the wall beside his bed. Pushing the covers aside, he slipped from his warm bed and padded over the cold stone floor until he stood before the glass, his breath fogging the window before him. Not really knowing what he was looking for, Harry pressed his forehead against the cool glass, relishing in the cold against his aching head, eyes drifting over the dark Hogwarts' grounds - and freezing as they caught on the small shadow that moved away from the castle and towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The lone, small shadow that was without her usual watcher escort.

"Bloody 'ell," he cursed, borrowing Ron's trademark words as he quickly turned away from the window, everything falling into place. Buffy drugged Giles so she could escape his overprotective reach - so she could face Voldemort's minions on her own. Feeling a spark of anger burn within him, Harry couldn't help wondering if she was overly confident or else very stupid with a death wish. Whatever the case may be, he had to do something, and fast before she got herself killed. Hurrying to his bedside, Harry's hand closed around the smooth length of his wand before he substituted his pajamas for his clothes from earlier that day.

"_Accio_ invisibility cloak!" he hissed, waving his wand and flicking it just right as he moved towards the infirmary door. He just had to hope that both Sirius and Remus were asleep already, or else the sight of his invisibility cloak freeing itself from wherever Sirius had hidden it was going to give them one heck of a surprise. Smiling at the thought, Harry tiptoed towards the door and then slipped into the darkened hallway, just in time to catch the cloak as it tumbled into him in a sheet of silvery material.

"If I'm going to break the rules, might as well do it right," he murmured with a smirk before taking off down the familiar halls. It had been too long since he had sneaked out of the castle. Too long and at the same time, not nearly long enough.

* * *

With the stealth of a predator in her element, Buffy crept beneath crooked branches and over gnarled roots, her steps light and sure and her sword held ready in one hand. Usually her nights were about making the most noise possible, trying her best to draw every creepy crawly in her direction so she could fulfill her nightly slay quotient. No longer. The simple fact that Voldemort had his goons out in the forest waiting on her arrival ensured that this would be a different night with different tactics. No, she'd rather pinpoint their location and ambush them rather then walk into their trap. Even though she had fervently denied it just a few short weeks ago, she wasn't completely without strategy and she did use her head when circumstances called for it - as they did this night.

No, this night was about cloak and dagger and having her finely tuned senses tuned to the... er, finest. Wrinkling her nose at her inner dialogue, Buffy forced her mind back on the present danger that she was, per usual, throwing herself into. With a grim smile, she stilled her steps and closed her eyes, allowing her keen hearing and that innate other sense to sweep the area around her - and turning up one lucky hit. Smirking, Buffy continued walking forward, as though she were oblivious to the presence that she had felt, until she finally located a large enough clearing for the confrontation that she had been looking forward to all evening. Stilling once more, Buffy allowed all of her senses to awaken as she focused on that single bead of energy - a familiar bead of energy. No, a very familiar bead of energy.

Scowling, Buffy lowered her sword and turned, her eyes searching out the dark night and quickly coming up empty. Confused, she felt her brow tighten, wondering for the briefest of moments if she had been mistaken. But it took only one more feel with her senses to know that it was impossible for her to be wrong. "Okay, Harry Potter, I don't know why I can't see you, but I know you're there," she stated, her voice quiet yet carrying in the dark clearing as her eyes stared directly at an empty spot a few feet before her, her senses finally pinpointing his location.

For a moment, the silence endured, only to be shattered by her muffled gasp as Harry's head suddenly appeared out of nowhere, floating in midair. Nearly falling to the ground in her shock at the strange sight, Buffy slowly gathered her wits and then began advancing on the floating head, her eyes wide. "How'd you... what.." she stammered, tentatively reaching out a small hand and poking it hard against, what looked like nothing, but what felt like Harry's chest. "I don't understand," she murmured, her voice filled with awe as she finished the distance between them, both hands splayed across what had to be Harry's chest.

"It's an invisibility cloak," Harry explained, finally getting over his confusion at being caught as he gently caught her hands in his, squeezing them briefly as her eyes lifted from the odd sight of his hands floating before her, to meet his own emerald gaze. "But how did you know I was even there?" he asked before curtly shaking his head. Stupid question. He should have known that a Slayer would be able to sense his presence - to somehow hear his awful attempts to follow her in the dark woods. Instead, he had a better question. "How did you know it was me?"

"I could feel you," Buffy answered simply, shrugging her small shoulders as her eyes swept over him, hands creeping down to finger the invisible cloth that cloaked his lean form. "I can always feel the magic," she continued absently, plucking the material and rubbing it between her fingers, watching the way it bent the moon's light around it. "But you feel different than the others. Like Dumbledore, but not," she added, pausing only as his hands caught hers. Startled, Buffy looked up into Harry's brilliant green eyes, his glasses reflecting the bright moonlight through the branches high above... branches... woods... Forbidden Forest. Jerking back, Buffy felt her lips turn down in a fierce scowl. "Harry, what are you doing out here?" she asked, her tone sharp.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Harry retorted, the magic broken as his hands disappeared under the cloak, crossing his arms stubbornly across his chest - a move that he realized that she wouldn't be able to see.

"Hello, Chosen One, remember?" Buffy asked, glaring at him as she angrily lifted her sword. "This is my job. It's what I do."

"Alone?" Harry asked, knowing he had her as her face began to flush, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. "Where's Giles?"

Scowling at the teen, Buffy turned and looked back in the direction of the castle, so far away. "Safe. Where you should be," she stated, jabbing a finger angrily against his invisible chest - rewarded when he grimaced at the force behind the move. It would bruise, she knew, and to be honest, at this point she didn't care. "Harry, there's a reason that this forest is forbidden. You're not supposed to be here. It's... dangerous..." she murmured, her voice trailing away as her senses began to prickle. Ooh, not good.

"Exactly, which is why you should-" Harry began, his protest smothered beneath Buffy's hand as her green eyes swept over the dark woods that encircled them.

"Shh," she shushed as she quickly reached forward, her free hand wrapping around the glimmering hood of the cloak and pulling it up and over Harry's head, making him fully invisible once more. "We've got company," she murmured in way of explanation as she felt the different energies surround their position. "And it doesn't feel like the good kind," she added, to herself as she turned, her back settling against Harry's invisible chest, lifting her sword before her. "When the bad stuff starts, get low and out of the way," she murmured, trying to keep her lips from moving.

But whatever response Harry was going to give died as a low hissing filled the clearing. Stiffening, Buffy slowly turned, feeling Harry match her movements as she tried to pinpoint the direction of the sound. It was hard, though, because there were too many things out there - it was confusing her senses. She felt power - dark power from a number of different sources - but a power that felt human. Felt wizard. And then there was the something else - a few something elses that included the unmistakable feel of a vampire or two and then... well, something not good.

"It's a basilisk," Harry whispered, answering her unasked question, his breath hot against her ear. "Close your eyes," he added, his voice tight.

Instantly Buffy complied with the warning, ridiculously thankful to her Watcher for all of the time she spent training blindfolded, honing her 'better' senses. "A what?" she hissed back, suddenly wondering if the sword and her daggers were going to be enough. Vampires. Great, and she didn't even think to bring along Mr. Pointy. Apparently, decapitation would have to be the trick of the trade tonight.

"A basilisk," Harry's voice repeated, from what felt like scant inches from her ear. "It's a giant snake-like creature with poisonous venom and if you look into its eyes, you'll die."

Shuddering at his wonderful description, Buffy's hands tightened on the helm of her sword. "Okay, when you say giant snake-like creature," she returned, feeling the sweat slicken her palms, "are you talking giant mayor-ascension giant or just boa giant?"

"Let's just say that the one I faced in second year was about the length of the quidditch pitch," the whisper returned, causing Buffy to grimace. And then, as the hissing continued, Harry quickly hurried on. "It says that Voldemort sent it here - sent them all here. They're to stay in the Forbidden Forest, waiting for Voldemort, and then they're going to strike against the school."

Bewildered, Buffy couldn't help her skepticism at his words. "And how can you possibly know this?"

"I'm a parsel tongue."

"A partial what?"

"I can speak to snakes," Harry returned, as though the answer was completely obvious. Which, of course, it wasn't.

"Oh... uh, neat," Buffy deadpanned, forgetting to muffle her words as she sighed in exasperation at the teen that was pressed so closely against her back. First mind-numbing visions, invisibility cloaks, and now snake-talk. She had to wonder what else the Boy Who Lived had forgotten to fill her in on.

"They don't know what you are," Harry continued, listening as the basilisk hissed from somewhere in the dark shadows that surrounded them, "but they've been ordered to find out and then... kill you."

Snorting at Harry's words, Buffy shook her head. "Well you can tell the big snake-thingie to tell Moldy Wart that the Slayer is in town," she quickly countered, speaking loud enough that her voice rang out in the dark woods, "and that this is _my_ forest now." Smiling, Buffy opened her eyes, slowly lifting her sword before her. "I'm perfectly willing to take down any big bad that comes my way," she added, a steel edge tingeing her words.

But even before her words finished their quiet echo in the dark woods, a lone figure stepped clear of the shadowed depths, cloaked in black robes with a dark hood covering his face. "So, Dumbledore found himself a Slayer," the man murmured, his voice cold as a hand slowly reached up and lifted the hood, revealing the pale and angular features of a stranger that was more boy than man, pale blond hair trailing over his sharp eyes.

"One and only," Buffy quipped nonchalantly, lying through her teeth as she felt Harry draw in a hiss of breath behind her. Ignoring him, she grinned brightly at the teen, eyes raking over his shadowed form. He looked to be about her age - yet his eyes held a look of smug superiority and a coldness that she could recognize all too well. "And you must be one of those Death Eaters that everyone is always on about," she countered. "A little young, aren't you?" she asked, unable to resist as she arched a slim brow at his form.

"Old enough to handle the likes of you," the teen retorted, his smile cocky as his eyesroved over her petite form. "Draco Malfoy," he added absently as his eyes finally lifted from her figure and settled on her face. "And you are?"

"The girl who's about to kick your ass all the way back to your Dark Lord," Buffy returned sweetly, slowly lowering her sword to her side. Such a lethal weapon would definitely not be needed on the likes of him.

"Hardly," Draco murmured, his voice filled with such disdain that Buffy felt herself stand even taller, her eyes flashing. And then, with a ridiculous flourish the tall teen pulled a wand from somewhere within his dark robes, his eyes glinting in the dark night, oddly playing off of Buffy's skeptic arch of a brow. With a grand wave and flick of the wand, a large smile lifting his lips, Draco called out one of his favorite curses - one that would surely land him in Azkaban should he ever be caught. "_Crucio!_" his hissed, watching as the girl stumbled slightly as the curse hit her before an irritatingly sweet smile lifted her lips.

"Hmm, that kind of tickled," she laughed, parroting her words to Sirius Black of a few short weeks ago right into the Death Eater's face. For a moment, she relished the utter shock and surprise that registered on the youth before he was joined by seven other men and women, all clothed in the dark robes of the Death Eaters - and that was before the scaly brown demon and the two vampires joined their sides. Smiling, Buffy lifted her sword and swung it experimentally before her like a baton twirler in a marching band. "I was hoping that you brought friends," she called out, ignoring the group's raised wands as she felt Harry's warmth disappear from her back. She'd just have to hope that he would stay out the way and out of danger.

But even before she had time to voice that thought, she and everyone in the clearing were surprised by the voice that seemed to come from nowhere. Buffy, however, was even more surprised by the result of Harry's cry of _expelliarmus_. With what felt like a shockwave, all of the Death Eaters were effectively disarmed and thrown back into the trees, leaving Buffy with only the single demon and two vampires to play with. Then, before anyone had a chance to recover from the shock, Harry cried out again from beneath his invisibility cloak, sheltered by the trees behind Buffy. "_Confundo!_"

This time, the effect was less apparent until her remaining opponents began to stumble around, looks of confusion upon their faces. Grinning despite herself, Buffy threw a brief glance at where she knew Harry to be, sending a silent thanks before turning back to her bumbling opponents. "Oh yeah, I got this one," she muttered as she quickly dodged forward, avoiding the vampires easily enough and aiming for the scaly demon. She didn't recognize its type, but that fact alone made it her current greatest threat - best to neutralize it while she had the chance. So, with an easy swing of her sword she parried off of its hard hide, ducked its stumbled swing, and lodged the blade into the thing's thick neck.

Grunting, Buffy struggled to free her sword, all the while conscious of the vampire that was quickly shaking off Harry's hocus pocus and heading for her unguarded back. Grimacing, Buffy finally relented her sword to the dead demon and snatched the dagger from the small of her back, swiveling towards her new threat as Harry's voice rang out once again.

"_Locomotor mortis!_" he called out, and almost instantly the vampire that was almost upon her did a face-plant at her feet, its legs locked together.

Pausing only long enough to take in her downed opponent, Buffy continued her turn until she was faced in the direction of the other vampire who was only beginning to head in her direction. Without pause she pulled back her arm and released the dagger with a precision and force born out of her chosen duty, the knife lodging itself between the vampire's yellow eyes and sending him to the ground for the moment. In full battle swing, she was already moving back towards the downed demon before her blade struck home, planting one doc on the dead creature's chest and wrapping her small hands around her sword's hilt. With a mighty heave, she managed to pull her sword free just in time to swing back and behead the vampire who was busy comically crawling towards her, its legs still magically linked together.

As the vampire exploded into ash Buffy was off and moving across the clearing, launching a spinning kick at a Death Eater that was just regaining his feet. As her foot connected with the person's jaw with a sickening crack that sent the human to the ground in an unconscious heap, she was already blocking the weak and clumsy swipe of another Death Eater, knocking her elbow back into his throat with a minimal of force, sending him beside his comrade, gagging pitifully. Even as she moved she felt curse after magical curse crash harmlessly against her form as her eyes swiveled to a hooded woman a few feet away.

"Yeah, like that worked so well before," she muttered, shaking her head ruefully as she launched a spinning roundhouse that connected with the woman's temple, sending her to the ground in yet another unconscious swirl of black robes. It was obvious that these mighty Death Eaters were thrown by such fierce hand to hand combat - or any sort of combat, for that matter. They were used to fighting with their wands and anything physical threw them. Rolling her eyes, Buffy felt another curse strike against her back. "Will you never learn?" she asked, beginning to turn towards the Death Eater who stood defiantly behind her when her senses began screaming at her. Relying on instincts honed from years of battle, Buffy dove to the side and rolled, lightly springing to her feet and watching with wide eyes as a snake that was indeed around the length of the quidditch pitch struck at the ground where she had just been standing, its coiling body slithering from the woods and long, pointed fangs gnashing at the dark night. Stumbling back, she watched as her previous opponent fell to the ground even though not a thing had touched him. She realized the man's mistake as she remembered Harry's earlier warning, her eyes quickly snapping shut as she lifted her sword high above her. Now didn't seem like the best of times to test her immunity to all things magical. "Harry?" she asked, her voice more of a whispered plea that her friend had another one of his little incantations up his sleeve. Right now, she could do with just about anything.


	15. Chapter 15

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 15  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Life is a gift that must be given back, and joy should arise from its possession.  
It's too damned short, and that's a fact. Hard to accept - this earthly procession  
To final darkness is a journey done, circle completed, work of art sublime,  
A sweet melodic rhyme, a battle won."**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

Green eyes wide from beneath his cloak, Harry could only watch in amazement as the tiny Slayer dove out of the way of another strike from the basilisk even though her eyes were tightly closed against the monster. She moved unlike anyone he had ever seen before, with a grace and speed that was impossible, the moon glinting off of her sword as she struck at the creature's thick hide. "Uh..." he stammered, desperately wracking his brain for any curse or charm that could help against a basilisk. Where was Fawkes when you needed him? "Uh - _conjunctiva!_" he called out, the conjuctivitis curse shooting from his wand and hitting the basilisk. Instantly the creature's eyes crossed themselves as its vision became distorted - so much so that it was nearly blind.

Smiling, Harry barely had time to congratulate himself on his quick thinking when he noticed the remaining vampire pull the small dagger from between its eyes and rise, its glowing eyes locked on Buffy's unprotected back and the dagger held firmly in one blood-soaked hand. Cursing quietly, Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to reach either in time. Instead, he threw his memory back, sorting through the vast number of spells and incantations he knew until he found something that could help. In an instant, he had it. Smiling grimly, Harry lifted his wand. "_Ferula_," he commanded, flicking his wand just right as he conjured a wooden rod on the ground before him. Then, raising his eyes and locking them on the vampire's back, he lifted his wand once again. He'd never exactly tried this one like this before and just had to hope that the words would bend to his need. "_Wingardium leviosa_," he said, using the familiar incantation that he had mastered his very first year at Hogwarts. With fierce concentration he raised the small rod and then sent it flying, the projectile launching itself across the clearing and burying itself in the vampire's back, piercing its heart and scattering it on the forest floor in a spray of ashes.

Yet this action didn't go unnoticed as a pair of gray eyes focused on the patch of empty forest that the wooden rod had both formed in and been launched from. "Potter," Draco hissed, having recognized the voice that had been calling out spells for the duration of the fight. Even as the slayer finished driving her sword between the basilisk's eyes, killing it and freeing her up to deal with the rest of his small contingent of Death Eaters, he abandoned his hiding spot. Seething with hatred, Draco Malfoy reclaimed his wand and then aimed it at the dark patch of wood before him. "_Accio_ invisibility cloak," he ordered, his command rewarded as a bundle of silvery cloth flew into his outstretched hand, revealing a surprised Harry Potter to the world. "Well, well," he murmured, his eyes narrowing further. "If it isn't the illustrious Harry Potter - the boy who just can't seem to die," he sneered as the disheveled teen in question straightened, brushing a wave of black from his forehead as his dark robes shifted around his lean form.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry returned evenly, his eyes skipping over to ensure that Buffy continued to wale on the remaining Death Eaters, leaving him free to face his worst enemy - well, one of them at least. "It's been a long time."

"Not nearly long enough," Draco returned as the two began to circle one another, wands raised and waiting to duel. "How's the Mudblood and the Weasel?"

"The usual," Harry returned casually, arching his back to work the kinks from his tensed muscles. "And following in your father's footsteps, I see," he returned, eyeing the dark robes. "We couldn't have expected anything more from you - although, I dare say that your father will be a bit disappointed in your complete and utter failure here tonight," he added as his eyes flickered to the clearing that was littered with two piles of ash, one demon, a basilisk corpse, and six unconscious Death Eaters.

Smiling shrewdly at the dark-haired teen, Draco shook his head. "Oh, I think not," he countered, a slow smile lifting his lips. "Little Potter outside the safe boundaries of Hogwarts? Your capture will earn me a higher place in my Master's service than even my father. Add to that the death of the Slayer that has been plaguing the-"

"You won't harm her," Harry interrupted, feeling his muscles tighten as he dared a quick glance to assure himself that Buffy still had everything under control. "You _can't_ harm her," he amended, a slight smile lifting his lips. "I think that Buffy has already proven that point this night."

But Draco had caught the slip and the teen felt a lazy smile lift his lips. "So the amazing Harry Potter has fallen for a Slayer," he taunted, watching as Harry's face flushed predictably at his words. Even when facing down each other as blatant enemies, old habits refused to die. "While assuredly a step up from that mudblood friend of yours, she's still not a witch. She's a Slayer, which means I'm doing you a favor. If she didn't die this night, it would only be someone else ending her pitiful life sooner rather than later."

Ignoring the truth of his words, Harry instead focused on his earlier taunt. "You're right," he said, nodding his head slowly as he finally stopped circling. "She is better," he added before falling back in the customary dueling stance. This time, there was no Professor Lockhart nor Snape to interfere - no other students to protect or impress. Just him and Draco, just as it was always meant to be. "She is better than us all. Besides, I've been waiting too long for this," he murmured as Draco fell into a similar position opposite him. And then, as though someone had indeed counted down the steps before facing off, both began yelling out their curse. But they weren't the same inexperienced young students that they were back in third year when they first dueled. Instead, they had five years to grow and expand their abilities. Five years for Harry to feel confident in his knowledge while Draco fully embraced the dark arts as was his heritage.

"_Crucio!_"  
"_Expelliarmus!_"

Both spell and curse, powerful in their own rights, collided with each other in a shower of bright magic, sprinklings of both spells hitting each and sending the casters flying back and to the ground. Grunting from the impact, Harry felt the weakened cruciatus curse course through his veins before dying away, quickly reclaiming his feet and facing the downed Death Eater who was still thrashing beneath the effects of his own curse. Smiling grimly, Harry realized his sole advantage in this duel: after experiencing the agony that went along with the mind-numbing connection he shared with Voldemort, Harry's tolerance of pain was far above and beyond par for someone his age. The pain of the faded curse had nothing on the usual pain he had been experiencing for the last four years. Harry cleared his mind of everything, green eyes locking with gray. "_Petrificus totalus_," he murmured, the powerful spell putting Draco in a full-body bind and ensuring that he would cause no more trouble that night. Sighing, Harry allowed himself the luxury of the support of a nearby tree as his weary green eyes finally turned back to the clearing, unsurprised to find Buffy's own gaze locked on him, a number of Death Eaters littering the ground around her.

"Old friend?" she asked with a small smile, eyes skipping to the boy that began their little skirmish.

"Worst enemy," Harry automatically countered as he pushed away from the tree and moved back into the clearing. His eyes drifted over the scattered Death Eaters, a small frown pulling at his lips. "Are they-"

"Dead?" Buffy finished for him, following his eyes as she, too, took in her handy work. "Only one, but that's the fault of your snake-thing. The others are simply unconscious - I don't play the killing game with humans - usually," she amended, a dark expression marring her features, so pale in the silvery moonlight. Lyle's visage flashed before her mind's eye, only to be replaced by Quentin Travers and the three nameless Council members that she had brutally slaughtered with her own hands, before she forced them all to drift away. They visited her dreams often enough that she refused to allow them to plague her waking hours. "I suppose that we better find a way to bring them back to the edge of the barrier to the castle," she murmured, purposely ignoring Harry's concerned gaze.

Sighing, his unasked questions continued to go unanswered as he, too, returned to the humans scattered around them, some already beginning to come to. Shaking his head, he slowly lifted his wand once more, summoning the strength for the magic from the wells he knew he contained deep within himself. "_Stupefy_," he murmured, the simple spell expanding to encompass the eight Death Eaters that surrounded them, rendering them all unconscious. Tired as he was from the many spells that he has cast already that night, Harry lifted his wand once again. "_Mobilicorpus_," he commanded, levitating the still bodies into the air and directing them to follow them as he and Buffy fell into step beside each other.

Amused at the sight, Buffy draped Harry's invisibility cloak over her arm as she propped her gleaming sword against her shoulder, having made sure to clean the blade of demon goo on one of the masked Death Eater's robes. "You're pretty good with that thing," she commented, nodding towards the deceptively harmless looking, narrow piece of wood that was raised before him.

"Well, I have been in schooling for it for the past seven years," Harry countered modestly, blushing at her words and trying his best to hide that blush in the shadowed woods. "And you're not so bad with that sword of yours, either," he added, turning to watch as his compliment had the complete opposite effect that he had been hoping for as Buffy's smile faltered.

"I've had the last five years to train with it," she murmured, her gaze drifting away.

The silence settled between them before Harry quickly pushed it aside as another thought caused his brow to wrinkle. "You know, you shouldn't just go on about who you are," he stated, trying and failing to suppress the mild reproving of his voice. "Someone will have to oblivate their memory, because if Voldemort finds out that you're a Slayer our side looses the advan-"

Narrowing her eyes at the teen, Buffy curtly shook her head, cutting off his admonishment without even saying a word. "I wasn't planning on letting any of them escape to tell the tale," she retorted, her shoulders stiffening slightly as she hurried ahead.

* * *

As the world came crashing back to him, Voldemort immediately became aware of two things: the pain that was throbbing from a point on his collar bone and the panicked voices of his Death Eaters as they clamored around his prone form. Hissing in pain both remembered and fresh, Voldemort's slitted nostrils flared as he angrily shoved at one of the men that was crowded over him, sending him flying across the room and scattering the rest of his higher echelon.

"Master, are you well?" one voice spoke, interrupting the tense silence that had fallen over the room from the moment that the Dark Lord had collapsed to the ground beside his throne.

Sighing, Voldemort settled his tall, skeletal frame back in his high, polished perch as he pulled the collar of his robe away to reveal a small, inflamed lightning shaped scar that marred his white skin. All eyes in the room fixed on that small blemish, questions abounding but none daring to ask. For perhaps the first time ever, the Dark Lord felt inclined to answer those questions before his followers made their own, most likely false, conclusions. "Surely, dear Severus," he hissed, eyes turning and locking on the Death Eater that had cautiously asked after his well-being, "that after spending so many unfortunate years teaching that brat of a Potter, you would recognize a curse scar when you see it," he murmured, his red eyes glinting in the dim light. "This is merely the remnants of my own back-fired curse from sixteen years before. Upon regaining my form it has plagued me since."

For a moment, Voldemort allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation as he reclined in his dark throne, trying to sort through the jumbled images that assaulted his senses. "And now everything begins to become clear," he murmured, absently lifting a pale hand to stroke his fingers along his pointed jaw. "It has been him all along that has been feeding so much information back to that old fool."

"W-who my Lord?" Snape asked, fearing that he already knew the answer as a cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Harry Potter," the dark lord replied evenly, his gaze unfocused. "It seems that the link that binds us is deeper than I had ever imagined," he added, a snake-like smile lifting his lips before his red eyes turned and focused on a tall man that stood with the rest. "Lucius, your son has failed me this night," he murmured, his voice filled with ice as the man trembled ever so slightly beneath his heavy gaze. "Yet his failure has not been complete," he added, smiling shrewdly. "For it seems that we have a new problem on hand... Dumbledore has managed to find himself a Slayer," he mused, a death-like silence filling the cold chamber.

"Macnair," he said, his head snapping up and his burning eyes locking on the lumbering man who still worked for the Ministry - an executioner for the Committee of the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures - how appropriate. "I want you to infiltrate the Council of Watchers and learn everything you can on their current slayer - a slayer named Buffy," he said, a malicious smile lifting his thin lips. The little wisp of a girl had defeated a basilisk, a demon, two vampires and a squadron of his Death Eaters with the help of Potter and without even breaking a sweat. Obviously a formidable ally - but everyone had a weakness. It was just up to him to find that weakness and exploit it in a way that would do the most damage. After all, Dumbledore hadn't simply found himself a slayer. He found himself a slayer that Harry Potter seemed to fancy. With her downfall it was possible to bring about the downfall of the Boy Who Lived himself, the thorn that had been in his side since the day he had thwarted his death curse sixteen years ago. Dumbledore's greatest ally had the potential of becoming his greatest weakness.

"Slayer indeed," he murmured, his gaze turning inward. "Slayer indeed..."

* * *

Sighing, Harry watched as Buffy stalked through the forest ahead of him, her back stiff and her silence unnerving. Just from witnessing the petite slayer's interactions with her watcher, it was easy enough to see that Buffy Summers did _not_ take well to being admonished and he wished more than anything that he owned a time turner so that he could go back and prevent himself from allowing those foolish words to leave his lips. Buffy was right. There was no reason to think upon her proclamation of her identity to the dark night. Everyone who was present was either slain or floating behind him, captured and ready to be turned into the Ministry where their memories of her words would be oblivated before word could leak out. All his words did was manage to create a rift between them when before there had been none. Just chalk it up to yet another stupid move by the infamous Harry Potter.

Harry angrily shook his head and hurried to catch up to the slayer, hoping to fix whatever had been broken between them - only to still as Buffy's small hand lifted, her eyes slowly drifting to the dark woods that surrounded them. She wore a look that he was beginning to recognize and something that caused adrenaline to course through his veins. He didn't know if he had enough strength to go another round with Death Eaters and other dangerous creatures. But then that fear was dashed as Buffy began to relax, her eyes skipping back to him.

"We've got company," she murmured, even as his godfather's voice echoed in the dark woods.

Cringing at the worry and anger he heard in that simple shout, Harry grimaced before calling out a response. As the group was alerted, he allowed his charges to drift back to the ground as what sounded like a dozen people began crashing through the trees around them. And then, before he knew it he and Buffy were surrounded as Sirius, Remus, Professor McGonagall, Arthur, Bill, and Percy Weasley, as well as Dumbledore himself broke from the trees and gathered around them. As one the adults' startled eyes moved back and forth between him and Buffy before settling on the stupefied Death Eaters behind them.

"Harry Potter, are you insane?" Sirius finally spoke, his voice filled with so much anger that both he and Buffy unconsciously took a step back as his godfather broke from the others and stormed to his side, strong hands gripping his arms so tight that it was almost painful.

"Let off!" he protested, his own anger spiking as he shook his godfather's hands away. "Sirius, I'm old enough to take care of myself!" he protested, flushing beneath the glares of everyone that surrounded them.

"If not for Harry, I'd probably be much more black and blue about now," Buffy added, trying to help her friend, her anger forgotten. But even as the words left her mouth Sirius Black was turning to her, his blue eyes cold and stormy and doing more to shut her up than anything else she could imagine.

"If not for you, Harry wouldn't have been out here in the first place!" he hissed, so much venom in his voice that even the adults around them recoiled.

"Sirius, enough," Remus cut in before any more hateful and unwarranted things could be said. "Perhaps this could wait until we are once again protected by Hogwarts' barrier," he added, sending the girl an apologetic glance.

Without a word, Sirius nodded once, briefly and in a manner that showed that this wasn't over before latching onto his godson with a steel-like grip. Then, as one cohesive unit the other adults formed a protective circle around the tall teen and began moving back towards the safety of the Hogwarts' grounds, Harry forced to keep pace and quickly leaving Buffy and Dumbledore alone with the group of Death Eaters.

As a heavy silence settled over the dark wood, Buffy wrapped her arms tightly around her small frame. "Okay, what just happened here?" Buffy asked, still reeling from Sirius' harsh words. It was her job, the reason for her being there, to come out to the forest and kill those that didn't belong there. It was her duty. To be rebuked for it, and so harshly, left her feeling stunned and defensive. It wasn't as though she _made_ Harry break the rules and follow her into the woods. Besides, what was the big deal? It wasn't as though he got hurt or anything! She protected... or rather, they protected each other.

Sighing, Dumbledore watched as the group disappeared into the trees before slowly turning and eying the mess of Death Eaters that littered the grounds around them. With a soft clucking he moved beside one familiar figure, stooping low and allowing his eyes to caress the lad's still features. "Draco Malfoy. What a pity," he murmured, shaking his head sadly before slowly straightening, wincing as his old bones protested against the movement. "And I had so hoped that he could avoid getting himself tangled in this."

"And once more with the what happened," Buffy retorted in kind, her eyes flashing as she demanded an answer from the powerful wizard who stood before her. And by the stubborn tilt of her chin, the headmaster knew that at least some kind of explanation would be needed to satisfy the girl.

"Do you realize how dangerous it is for Mister Potter to be outside the protective barrier?" he asked, thick brows arching beneath his drooped hat as Buffy's expression turned to one of bewilderment. "In truth, Harry Potter is one of the main reasons that such a barrier was erected in the first place," he continued when the slayer gave no response. "You see, should Voldemort manage to catch Harry unprotected and outside the school's barrier, he would whisk him away and kill him before anyone was the wiser - something that would not only destroy Sirius, but would land a horrible blow to the morale of the entire wizarding community."

Sighing, Dumbledore slowly lifted his head and met Buffy's troubled green eyes. "Harry Potter is far more important to this world than he could ever imagine - than any of us could possibly imagine. Therefore, his well-being is of the utmost importance to me and the other adults at this school."

Closing her eyes against the wizard's solemn face, Buffy turned back to the dark woods. "Okay, I get that," she muttered, hating the guilt that was filtering through her system. "Harry's to be protected, check," she added before frowning back up at the tall wizard. "But it's not like I _asked_ him to get us all in trouble and come with. Hello, what do you think this is for?" she asked as she lifted the forgotten invisibility cloak.

Smiling slightly at her indignant and stubborn anger, Dumbledore shrugged lightly, his heavy robes billowing around his stooped form. "I'm afraid that you'll have to forgive Sirius his anger. He has come too close to losing his godson too many times," he explained, his expression turning grim. "He has become very protective of Harry."

"Yeah, I can relate," Buffy grumbled before she could stop herself.

"Which reminds me," Dumbledore returned, sparkling eyes locking on her slight frame. "Where _is_ your Mr. Giles?"

Instantly Buffy flushed as her anger was swept away by a wave of guilt - a guilt that she most definitely deserved this time. "W-well, you see," she stammered, trying to look anywhere but into Dumbledore's knowing blue eyes.

Shaking his head and turning his gaze to the heavens above, Dumbledore could only sigh in exasperation as the Slayer confirmed his fears. "Why cannot the children of today understand that their elders just want to protect them?"

"Yeah, well when will all you old people just learn that not only are we old enough to take care of ourselves, but that you can't protect us forever," Buffy returned, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest as Dumbledore simply arched a white, bushy brow at her harsh words. "Besides, there comes a point when it's our turn to do the protecting. It goes along with that destiny and fate crap that has been shoved down my throat for the past five years. As I've been told, repeatedly, I can't avoid it - and neither can he," she finished, daring him to continue.

For a moment, Dumbledore looked at the girl, fully taking in everything that made up this Slayer. He had known quite a few in his time, but none came close to resembling the girl that was Buffy Summers. Many things had shaped the short life of this young girl - experiences both good and bad, and in the end those experiences made her a force to be reckoned with. Apparently even when the two opponents were on the same side. "Indeed," he murmured, leaving the conversation at that before turning his attention back to the stunned Death Eaters. "Well, we best be getting this lot back towards the castle," he added, inclining his head slightly at the petite slayer before leading the way.

* * *

It seemed as though all of Harry's innumerable protests had fallen on deaf ears as Sirius never relinquished his painful hold on his godson, his face set in a fury so intense that it seemed like his features were carved from stone. Instead, the ex-auror had drug his godson onto the grounds and through the tall castle, brushing past people and uncaring of the image that they were presenting until he finally pushed his way through the Fat Lady's portrait and into the common room of Gryffindor. Then and only then, with Remus and the elder Weasley's following them into the room, the rest of the room going silent at the display, did Sirius finally acknowledge Harry as he swung him around and locked his large hands around his arms, drawing him angrily before him. "How stupid can you-"

"Let off!" Harry ground out, angrily shaking himself free of his godfather's hold. And even as hard hands bruised his arms, Harry refused to acknowledge the pain - refused to rub at the sore muscles and instead glared at his godfather. "What's your problem?" he demanded, aware that the room had fallen silent as three year's worth of pent up frustration finally broke free. "You had no right to talk to Buffy that way, and you have no right to drag me around as though I am only eleven years old! Because I'm not! I'm not a child anymore!" he bellowed, his voice cracking as Miss Weasley quickly began gathering her children and husband, urging everyone from the room and leaving the two alone.

"Then quit acting like one!" Sirius raged, shaking as his fear and concern twisted into anger - into rage at his godson's actions. "What were you thinking, sneaking out like that? Especially when you knew that you'd be stumbling into a trap? You heard Voldemort's plan yourself!"

"I was thinking that for once I could do something for somebody else - that I could _help_ someone! All I ever do it sit here and watch it all happen! I can't do that anymore!" Harry protested, his voice rising in fever pitch until it cracked at last as his shoulders seemed to sag under a great weight. "I had to sit there and watch as Voldemort killed Cedric and.. and as he killed Fred and George. I... I just can't sit here anymore," he murmured, his voice faltering as his eyes skipped to the floor, hating the way that the tears came unbidden and burned his vision.

Sighing, Sirius slowly shook his head as he felt his anger dissolve under a wave of sadness. Now, more than ever, Harry looked so much like his father that it was eerie. The way that his lips would quirk at something that would amuse him, or the way that his raven-colored hair continued to fall in every which direction, no matter how much care his godson put into arranging it - it was all James - all of it. But the hardness that lined his green eyes - eyes that spoke of Lily more than anything - the eyes that contained so much wisdom and pain. They were eyes that seemed older than either James and Lily had ever been. It spoke of all of the tragedies and hardships that he had to endure.

Shaking his head, Sirius slowly moved towards his godson and settled his hands on the teen's shoulders, noting that they were now about the same height. As Harry's watery green eyes lifted and locked with his own, he felt his sadness only deepen. It wasn't right or fair that such a burden had been placed on his godson's shoulders - on anyone's shoulders when they were so young. But especially Harry. He had to live a lifetime without James and Lily - two of the most wonderful people that Sirius had ever had the pleasure of knowing. In a way, he felt as though he had failed his best friend whenever he saw the pain in Harry's eyes. If only he hadn't gone after Peter... if he had just stayed with Harry and looked after him as he had promised James and Lily that he would...

But he could never go back and change what had happened or the decisions that he had made. Instead, he had to live with the consequences and try his damnest to make up for the lost time. Try his best to keep Harry safe now that he finally was given that chance.

"Harry, I'm sorry," he stated, drawing his godson close and hugging him as though he was afraid he would slip away at any moment, his cheek resting against his dark hair. "I just... I just don't want anything to happen to you," he murmured, squeezing him gently even as Harry began to pull back.

"I know, Sirius, and I'm sorry for worrying you," Harry returned, sighing heavily as he lifted his eyes to his godfather's. "But you can't keep me locked in here forever. You can't keep me safe forever," he murmured, watching as the man visibly struggled with his words, obviously wanting to argue and refute them - but both knew that would get them nowhere. They could argue until they were blue in the face but both were far too stubborn. It would get them nowhere except the infirmary when both collapsed from exhaustion.

"Well, as your guardian I can continue to do whatever I please until you turn eighteen," he countered, his tone firm as his eyes dared his godson to fight him on this. "Therefore, until July 31st you are not to leave the castle grounds under any circumstances - especially beneath the covering of your father's old cloak," he stated, frowning slightly. He was just lucky that the cloak had hit him on its way to Harry. "You nearly gave us all a heart attack," he murmured, softening his gaze just slightly as Harry looked apologetic and sheepish from his actions.

Sighing, Harry allowed himself the briefest nod before his own eyes narrowed. "On one condition," he returned, a frown pulling at his lips.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius crossed his arms across his chest. "Apparently you're not understanding. This isn't something to be negot-"

"You have to apologize to Buffy tomorrow," Harry interrupted, his tone hard. "She goes out into that forest every night, risking her life time after time in order to help us all. She didn't deserve that."

"Fine, I'll apologize tomorrow at breakfast," Sirius agreed wearily, knowing that his godson was right. Then again, an apology to an angered slayer was definitely _not_ something that he would be looking forward to. "Truce?"

"For now," Harry agreed, allowing the slimmest of smiles before his mouth stretched wide in a yawn. Once the anger and fear were gone, the only thing that remained was a weariness that knew no bounds. He had overdone it tonight and had nearly depleted his magical strength. He wasn't used to using that much magic in one sitting. The occasional spell during classes, of course, but a full-out war against a squadron of Death Eaters and their goons? Hardly.

Seeing his godson's exhaustion, Sirius frowned briefly before gently pushing the boy towards the stairs. "We'll talk more tomorrow - just get some sleep," he called, watching as the teen nodded briefly before disappearing up the stairs. Sighing, Sirius slowly shook his head and lowered his long frame onto one of the chairs that adorned the large room.

"That went surprisingly well," Remus commented, abandoning his place in the shadows to join his friend.

"You stayed?" Sirius returned, obviously surprised as the professor settled beside him.

"Of course - I had to be sure that neither of you would kill the other," he retorted, a sad smile pulling at his lips. As a silence fell over the two, Remus found his eyes drifting to the fire that warmed the large room. "He's got a lot of James in him, doesn't he?" he asked, watching as Sirius grunted in return. "But a lot of Lily, too," Remus added, meeting his best friend's shadowed blue eyes. "Harry is much more responsible and reasonable then James ever was. You can trust in him to keep his head and to keep himself safe - he managed to fare thirteen years without either of us to look after him, and I'm sure that he will continue long without us as well. Harry may be patient now, but Sirius, he's seventeen - nearly a man himself. You can't keep him hidden forever."

"No, I can't," Sirius agreed, his voice soft as his eyes drifted back to the flames. "But I also don't intend to let him fall to the same fate as James and Lily. Something of them must survive this. Harry will survive this," he stated, his eyes closing wearily as he settled further back into the chair. "He has to."


	16. Chapter 16

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 16  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"_Alav ha-sholem_. May this sleep be only a little dream between this world and something better. _Baruch ha-Shem._"**  
-Dean Koontz-

Sweeping into the room in a flare of black robes, Harry ignored Ron and Neville's startled and questioning gazes and instead pushed back the heavy curtains that surrounded his bed. "Not now," he murmured in response to their unasked questions as he turned and fell back onto the soft mattress in an explosion of dark material. His initial thought upon returning to the room was to either brood over his fight with Sirius or else amaze himself with the hectic fight with the Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest - or maybe even regale Ron and Neville with his wizard's dual against Draco. However, the instant his head touched the pillow, the darkness that had been clutching at the edges of his vision finally broke free and stole over him, casting him into a dark sleep.

"Is Harry okay?" Neville asked timidly from his place on his own bed across the large room as Ron cautiously moved to his friend's side.

"Harry's asleep," Ron returned in disbelief. Confused, he slowly bent over and waved his hand over Harry's face, noting that he didn't even twitch at the movement. Apparently, whatever had happened that night had been something that had exhausted Harry to the point of this deep sleep. Shrugging his shoulders, he gently plucked Harry's glasses from his nose and then moved down to work at the laces of his shoes. At least Madam Pomfrey had gained her wish in all of this, for it seemed that Harry had no choice but to succumb to the bed rest that the mediwitch had ordered only a few hours before. He could only hope that his dreams would be peaceful and free from darkness... or free from memory.

* * *

_Sighing, Harry slowly began the long count to ten beneath his breath as Draco smirked opposite him. The light-haired teen was baiting him as only Draco Malfoy knew how, waiting patiently for the explosion that only he could elicit. Once Harry finally let his temper get the best of him, it would all be over. Snape had been hovering around his and Ron's table for the majority of the class, his dark gaze jumping back and forth between the nemeses, ignoring Draco's barbs and awaiting what was bound to come next. The only question remained who would blow up first - him or Ron._

_"What's the matter, Potter?" Draco asked, cautiously throwing a look to the head of his house before continuing on, his smile brightening. "Didn't your father ever teach you which ingredient came next? I certainly know that _my_ father did... oh wait, that's right," he continued evenly to the snickering of his fellow Slytherins. "Your father died protecting your pitiful excuse of a life, leaving you with the muggles where you belong."_

_Growling, Harry ignored Hermione's frantic whisperings and broke free of Ron's hold, staggering to his feet as blood rushed to his face... only to have all of that blood disappear even quicker than it had come as a splintering pain burst from the scar above his eyes, casting the world into darkness... and then back into light._

_He had no form and yet he knew that his eyes were locked on the familiar figure that towered before him. He had no voice yet he wanted to cry out in fright and anger at the thing that stood cloaked in darkness, its red eyes locked on the building that stood before him. He had nothing and could do nothing but watch as Lord Voldemort passed through a tunnel of Death Eaters and glided into the entryway of... of a store. A very, very familiar store._

_Even though Harry had no body, and certainly had no heart, he nonetheless felt it catch in his chest as his desperate, inexistent eyes swept up and traced over the familiar sign: _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_. And then his heart, that wasn't even there, was crashing against his chest as invisible bile rose in his throat. He wanted to scream at the Death Eaters that surrounded this store that they couldn't be here. Not here. Anywhere but here. In the years since he had borne witness to the cruelties of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Harry Potter had been forced to witness much - much more than he ever wanted to witness. But to have to watch this? He couldn't. He wouldn't... he had no choice._

_Unwillingly Harry felt the pull and followed the trail of Death Eaters until he was standing amongst them, his eyes falling upon the two figures that were slumped against each other, clinging to one another on the wooden floor amongst a scattered array of fake wands, canary creams, tickled feathers and other enchanted items - strewn about their creations. The twins were bleeding from various places, and from the way that Fred cradled his brother's head in his lap, it was apparent that George had been held under the cruciatus curse for far too long, his hazel eyes glazed with pain. They knew their end was near and while tears drifted unnoticed from their pain-wracked gazes, their eyes still carried a defiance that was altogether the Weasley twins - even if their gazes lacked their usual mirth and mischievousness._

_"Fred and George Weasley," Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowed and his wand clenched firmly in his bony hand. "Brought to ruin amongst your trivial pursuits."_

_"Only you and your cowards would consider laughter to be trivial," Fred retorted as he clutched his brother against him, protective of one he knew he was hopeless to protect._

_"Is it laughter that you desire?" the dark snake retorted, a thin smile lifting his lips as Fred pulled his brother even closer. "I shall give you laughter," he hissed before lifting his wand and waving it at the twins. "Crucio," he whispered, eyes dancing as the curse struck George, his anguished screams mingling with his brother's horrified pleas of mercy and the laughter of the Death Eaters that surrounded them. "Ah yes... now this is laughter," Voldemort whispered as George's screams turned into strangled gasps, a thick trail of blood leaking from his lips as his eyes rolled up to lock on his brother's anguished features. And then... and then the screams stopped altogether as George Weasley stilled, his body releasing its last breath._

_And as George Weasley died, it was obvious to all that something within Fred Weasley died as well. Instantly his eyes dimmed as he cradled his twin against him, his gaze never leaving his brother's sightless hazel eyes. The jeers of the Death Eaters could not reach him wherever he had gone, and somehow, Harry realized that nothing would ever reach Fred again. When Voldemort finally tired of his game and ended Fred's life in a flare of green light, Harry felt like he was doing Fred a mercy - doing the Weasley's a mercy. For somehow, he knew that Fred couldn't have survived without George. It had always been that where one went, the other would inevitably follow. Apparently, the same went with death._

_Then everything was rushing back as pain exploded in his forehead, his senses reeling and trying to catch up with his thoughts. He was dimly aware of hands supporting him and voices urgently calling out his name... of the hot tears that coursed down his cheeks. Forcing the pain and the darkness away, Harry strove to open his watering eyes. He had to... he had to tell them. They couldn't find out... not like that. And so with a force of will born out of desperation, Harry's green eyes fluttered open and locked on the concerned faces of his peers as they gazed worriedly at his downed form._

_"Harry, Neville has gone for the headmaster," Hermione murmured, catching his attention and causing him to swing his gaze to the friend that cradled his head in her lap._

_"Here, drink this," another voice ordered, and as he felt strong arms support him, his eyes landed on Snape's face, twisted in what was a mask of indifference with eyes shadowed in concern. But as the goblet was forced against his lips and the burning liquid forced down his throat, Harry's eyes were turning past until they locked on Ron's pale face. A face that was filled with so much concern... concern for him._

_"What did you see, Harry?" Seamus asked, voicing the question that Harry knew they were all thinking - the secret fear that they all held deep within their hearts. Even if the rest of the wizarding world refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return, the students of Hogwarts were only too well aware of this fact - and of the fact that Harry would be the first to know if anything had happened to any of their families._

_But Harry had no mind for promises of the headmaster, potions, the concerns of his fellow classmates, or idle questions. Instead, his bloodshot green eyes remained locked on his best friend until Ron's eyes slowly widened, a horrible understanding entering his gaze. "No," Ron protested, the first words he had spoken as inevitably everyone turned to him. "No," he whispered again, his face paling as he slowly shook his head back and forth, his eyes begging Harry to deny what he was beginning to feel in his heart. "Please no," he whispered as tears flooded his eyes._

_"Ron," Harry croaked, his voice faltering and then cracking altogether as heavy sobs began to shake his shoulders. But he had to know. Ron had to know before they came. Before they told him. "Ron... the shop," he whispered, the room falling deadly silent as Ron slowly stumbled to his feet and began backing away, nearly tripping over the others as he tried to outrun his friend's words._

_"Fred and George?" he asked, his voice hollow and already knowing the answer to his question before he asked._

_"I'm sorry," Harry murmured weakly, feeling the darkness begin to claim him, no longer willing to be held at bay. And the last thing that he saw before he was lost to the world was the sight of Ron falling to the ground as though invisible strings had been cut. He had lost not only one, but two of his brothers this night - and there was naught that Harry could do but bear witness to their final moments._

* * *

Sighing softly, Molly Weasley fidgeted in the soft bed, her hands pulling at the covers and then pushing them away, scooting this way and then that, never quite finding the place that fit her body just right. Never finding the place in the bed that fit her body just as the bed that had comforted her for the past thirty years and held her. This one, while large and comfortable, soft and warm, didn't have the small indentation where her body rest so well. It didn't have the feel of her worn mattress nor the smell of the bed that had carried her through many a hard night and many a joyous joining. Her bed had seen the conception of all seven of her children. This bed had seen naught but the comings and goings of many a small child.

"Molly, dear, if you don't cease your fidgeting neither of us will find sleep this night," Arthur's weary voice carried to his wife as he turned, inviting her to roll into his familiar embrace.

"I'm sorry, luv," she murmured as she snuggled against him, breathing in his familiar scent. "I just have my mind all in a tizzy, what with Harry up and disappearin' like that and then that big scene with him and Sirius."

"I know, but you know that it's not our place-"

"But it is, and you know it," Molly countered, her voice soft. "We're the only family that poor child has. Remus, Sirius and us... that's it, and that's all there's ever been for him. You know he's as much one of our own as Ron or Ginny," she murmured, her voice soft as she thought of the wayward youth that had captured her heart that very first day she saw him, when he was little more than a lost child trying to find his way into a strange new world. She wouldn't abandon him now.

Smiling in the dark room, Arthur pulled his wife closer to him, allowing her to pillow her head on the crook of his arm. Within minutes her breathing slowed and he knew that she had found sleep at last... even if it now evaded him like a thief in the night. What Molly didn't say was how much she needed Harry and the other children in order to keep going. If it wasn't for them, she would have fallen that day that they learned of what happened to Fred and George... their twins. They were good boys, both of them, and it had nearly destroyed them to learn of what happened. Of what Lord Voldemort had done for no other reason than to punish a family that had always openly opposed him. It had taken far too long for Molly to awaken without the damp feeling of tears upon her pale cheeks and for her to go for even a few minutes without the sobs renewing once more. Now, close to a year and a half later, Arthur would still catch the occasional glances that she gave to the children that she surrounded herself with - to the sadness that never quite left her soft hazel eyes. He knew that sadness would never go away, for to do that, it would mean that she would finally have to let go of Fred and George, and if there was one thing that Arthur had learned these past few years, it was that you could never let go of the ones you love... even if they left you behind to go to a place free of pain or fear. To go home.

Sighing, Arthur slowly pushed his thoughts away and waited for sleep to claim him. Someday he knew that he would see his boys again and that his family would become whole once more. Until that time, they had no choice but to keep going as Fred and George would want them to. As they needed to, if for no other reason than the children that still depended on them. For all of the children.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning seemed a quiet affair, what with the previous night's excitement. It was as though everyone was sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hermione and Ron kept sending Harry guarded looks, anxious to find out what exactly transpired the night before that had sent the adults running from the castle as though Voldemort himself were outside. And the sight of Sirius dragging Harry through the portrait door only a short while later only added to the confusion. Yet at the same time Harry seemed lost in a world that was entirely all upon himself, the boy distracted and withdrawn - and from the way that Remus continued to throw the dark-haired teen anxious glances, it was apparent that the professor, at least, didn't think that the previous night's activities were the reasons behind it.

Suspiciously absent from the usual morning gathering were Sirius, Buffy, and Giles, and as the morning waned and the plates began to clear, Harry couldn't help but wonder if any of them would even make an appearance. Sirius had promised to apologize to Buffy that morning, and Harry wondered if his godfather was putting off that task as long as possible. While he loved his godfather with all of his heart, Harry wasn't blind to his faults - pride being one of them. But as for Buffy and Giles... their absence was more troubling and the Boy Who Lived couldn't help his anxious glances towards the entrance to the Great Hall every few minutes - a gesture that only served to heighten the tension that hovered over the table.

Finally, as Harry glanced surreptitiously towards the doorway once again, Hermione decided that enough was enough. "Really, Harry, whatever do you keep looking for?" she demanded, cautious to keep her voice low so as not to attract any more attention towards their end of the table. Not that there was anyone nearby to notice. As usual, the adults had gathered themselves at the long table's end, talking quietly amongst themselves with an occasional pointed glance sent in their direction. However, contrary to the normal routine, the three teens sat a good pace away from the rest of their table - the tension having long since driven Ginny away to seat herself with the Longbottoms.

"He's looking for Buffy," Ron guessed, Harry's sullen glare proof that he had guessed correctly. "Although why you keep looking for her is still a mystery to me. What _did_ happen last night?"

"The sleeping potion wasn't for herself, was it?" Hermione hazarded, a small frown pulling at her lips as Harry's shoulders slumped even more at her words.

"She slipped it to Giles," Harry admitted with a sigh as he ran a hand through his unruly black hair. Even though he had slept the night through, his dreams from the night before guaranteed that his sleep was anything but restful. If anything, he felt more tired now than when he had gone to bed. "I used my dad's invisibility cloak to follow her into the Forbidden Forest."

"But I thought that Sirius had the... oh," Ron mumbled, understanding dawning on his features as Hermione opened her mouth to unleash some kind of lecture upon him. "Well, did ya find her?" he asked, cutting off his girlfriend before she could begin. From the way that Sirius looked the night before, Ron was pretty confident that Harry had already been on the rough end of more than his share of lectures.

"Yeah, Buffy as well as a basilisk, two vampires, a demon, and eight death Eaters - one of which we haven't seen in ages," he added, unable to stop the small grin from lifting his lips at the memory of a certain blond-haired Slytherin.

"A basilisk?" Hermione asked, eyes wide and horrified as Ron's jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes going as wide as saucers.

"You didn't! Not - not-"

"Malfoy," Harry confirmed, his worries for their new friend temporarily forgotten under the heady bliss of the sight of Draco lying on the ground and twitching beneath his own unforgivable curse. "We dueled and this time, I won," he added, grinning brightly.

"Still all giddy about kicking your friend's butt last night?" Buffy asked by way of hello as she slipped into the vacant seat beside Harry.

"I'd hardly call him Harry's friend," Ron protested, even as Harry turned to Buffy with concerned eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low as his concerned green eyes took in her haggard appearance. Even though they had arrived back at the school hours ago, it looked as though Buffy hadn't slept at all. Her tanned skin was pale to the point of gray in the wan morning sunlight and dark circles lined her pretty green eyes - and that was beside the hard line of her lips and the lines that seemed to have appeared overnight on her young face.

"Oh peachy," she returned, forcing a small smile as she felt, more than saw the glances of the other adults at the table as they all settled on her small frame.

"Has Giles woken up... yet..." Harry trailed off as the watcher strode through the door, his shoulders stiff and his lips pursed together in an expression that was very unpleasant. The Giles that approached them looked nothing like the mild-mannered watcher that the group had come to know, respect, and like. If anything, he looked as though someone had not only given him a good dose of some of Fred and George's best pranks, but as if someone had run over his kitten while they were at it. "Oh boy," he muttered, wincing at the glare that the older man sent in their direction before sitting himself stiffly with the other adults. Which was, of course, when Sirius chose to make his grand appearance, blissfully ignorant of the tension that had grown to the point that it was beginning to choke the others.

"Good morning everyone!" he cried out cheerfully, purposefully bypassing the other adults and settling his long frame on the bench beside Hermione. "And just the Slayer that I wanted to see," he began, completely oblivious of the frantic shake of his godson's head. "Buffy, about last night-"

"Don't worry about it," Buffy interrupted, finally tearing her eyes away from her clenched hands and lifting her head, her chin jutting out stubbornly in a way that Harry was beginning to recognize. "It's no big."

"No big what?"

"No big deal," Buffy continued, forcing a smile that was meant to be pleasant but turned out sour. "I understand completely," she added, her voice growing louder by the second as her shoulders straightened and her eyes flashed dangerously. "You were just worried about Harry. You just wanted to _protect_ Harry," she added as she turned her stormy gaze down the table until she was matching her watcher glare for glare. And then, without another sound, Buffy wordlessly pushed her plate back and stood from the table and turned away.

"Buffy, dear," Molly Weasley quickly called out, stilling Buffy's movements as the matronly woman threw a concerned glance at her husband. "You haven't even eaten yet," she said, her voice soft yet pointed as she added a motherly note that her children never failed to heed. Then again, Buffy wasn't her child.

Forcing herself to turn back towards the table and attempt a smile for the concerned woman, Buffy slowly shook her head - and then stiffened as her eyes fell upon Giles who was sitting right beside her. Feeling her anger swell once more, Buffy's muscles tightened and her smile turned frosty and then crumbled before a grimace. "I think I've lost my appetite," she returned, her voice cold as she turned and stormed away.

Flustered, Molly anxiously watched the girl go before turning back to her family and friends. "That girl is far, far too skinny as it is," she muttered crossly as she threw a glance down the table where her Ron and the others seemed torn between staying or going after the furious slayer, before wisely deciding on the former. Buffy had looked ready to explode, and if what Arthur had said last night about what had happened was true, a slayer exploding was not something that she cared to have any of her children around. "She really needs to eat more," she continued, throwing a fierce scowl at the man who sat rigidly beside her.

"Molly," Arthur quickly cut in, his voice soft as he, too, sent Giles a cautious glance, "you aren't her mother-"

"Well someone needs to be!" she retorted as Giles suddenly abandoned his seat and strode from the hall, turning in the opposite direction that his slayer had taken. Surprised and more than a little confused, Molly watched the man go for a moment before turning to her family in confusion. "Was it something I said?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 17  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Rush headlong and hard at life or just sit at home and wait.  
All things good and all the wrong will come right to you: it's fate."**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

The warm sunlight filtered through the large dormer windows, and Buffy smiled softly as the students' quiet murmurings drifted over her as she watched the class from her position in the far back corner. She had been a regular attendee of Professor Lupin's DADA class since her first visit, helping when she could or just observing - surprisingly learning a lot of stuff that she had begun to use during her nightly forays into the Forbidden Forest. Lately, however, Buffy's presence in the classes - all classes - had been a constant. No one had yet to say anything, but Buffy knew that everyone understood her presence all too well. She was pretty sure that nearly everyone in the castle had heard Giles' angry yells upon waking from the sleeping potion almost a week ago, despite the incredibly thick stone walls. The fight had been loud, long, and vicious as Giles' had nearly broken down upon realizing what she had done - what she had risked to keep him safe. But of course, he hadn't understood. Not even when she compared this small betrayal to his much larger one with the Cruciamentum almost a year ago. Actually, she was pretty sure that that particular reminder made things worse.

To say that things had been tense between Buffy and Giles since that morning was putting it mildly. Their nightly patrols were done in silence and they sat far apart at all meals. During the day Giles would bury himself in the books in their room and Buffy would quickly escape upon wakening, spending her every moment as far from her Watcher as she could get. Too much else was going on that she couldn't possibly deal with her Watcher's anger. Not then - not now.

Sighing, Buffy pushed her troubled thoughts away as Remus called the class to attention, ready to start a lesson that would involve the children of all ages.

"Today, as promised," Professor Lupin began, his gray eyes drifting over the attentive students, "we will be covering a topic that is usually covered in your fourth year. However, due to the very nature of this topic, Professor Dumbledore has asked for me to involve everyone in this lesson. We have both agreed that none of you can ever learn this lesson well enough. Today, we will begin exploring the three Unforgivable Curses." At once the class fell into a hushed silence, students sharing tense glances with each other and straightening in their hard chairs. "Can anyone list the three Unforgivables, explain what they are, and tell everyone the punishment for using such a curse on another person?" he asked, weary eyes skipping over the group. Predictably, Hermione's hand was the first in the air. "Hermione," he called out, gesturing for the girl to go ahead.

Nodding, Hermione quickly stood, her eyes meeting each of the students' in turn, especially lingering on the few younger students who hadn't yet covered this topic. "The three Unforgivable curses are the Crucio, the Imperius, and the Avada Kedavra curses," she stated, her tone imitating that of a professor. "TheCruciatus curse causes the victim to suffer unimaginable pain," she murmured, her voice faltering as her eyes skipped over to rest briefly on Harry. He had suffered this torment first hand in fourth year, all thanks to You-Know-Who. "Prolonged exposure to the curse has been known to cause the victim to go insane, or even death," she added, her voice hushed as she purposely avoided looking to Neville. They hadn't learned about what had truly happened to his parents until fifth year - but it was a knowledge that none would forget too easily. To be driven insane from a pain so intense that you could no longer even recognize your own son... it was horrible. Swallowing the bile that had risen in her throat, she quickly continued. "The Imperius curse places the victim completely under the control of the caster, enabling the caster to force the victim to do whatever they wish. And the Avada Kedavra curse... it causes instant death in a flash of green light," she murmured, fighting against turning once more back to her best friend. "It is the only curse to which there is no counter spell to block or avoid it, and to be caught using any of the Unforgivable Curses will result in a life sentence to Azkaban."

"Thank you, Hermione," Remus said, his voice quiet as the girl nodded once before reclaiming her seat. "Today, we will start by working with the Imperius Curse," he stated as he bent to retrieve a small black cage and placed it on the desk before the class. He hated this lesson - but it was lesson that needed to be taught. The children needed to see the results of these curses if they were to understand them - if they were to have any hope of not only avoiding them, but fighting them as well. This lesson could very well save one of their lives some day. He just hated what it forced him to do. Shaking his head slightly, Remus looked at the class, noting that all of their eyes had become riveted upon the two black spiders that scuttled within their prison. Even Buffy's green eyes remained locked on the small creatures, her face pale and her eyes haunted.

"If the will is strong enough, a person can be taught to fight the Imperius curse," he explained, forcing himself to continue even as he amended that sentence to himself. He had heard of how Harry had fought and thrown off the curse the very first time it was placed on him - a remarkable feat, especially for someone so young. "If not, the curse will consume you and bend you to its will, no matter how strong the wizard."

Unknown to the rest of the class, Buffy felt both Hermione and Professor Lupin's words slide through her and freeze her very core. They couldn't know - none of them could possibly know what she had been through. It may of not been magic, but the Centre had placed her under their own version of the Imperius Curse when they first brainwashed her, and then later used some kind of drug treatment to make her their slave. She had killed four innocent men while being bent to their will, and their blood would forever stain her hands.

As her breathing began to grow ragged and her slim form began to shake, Buffy felt her vision narrow until it was a tunnel that ended on the sight of the two spiders that moved about their prison. Their prison. Her prison. Gasping, she heard Lupin call out an unfamiliar word, the strange Latin _imperio_ rolling off of his tongue as the spiders instantly reacted to his command and began moving about in ways that were obviously not meant for spiders. Controlled. They were being controlled, and when the younger students began to laugh at the gross display, Buffy found that, slayer or not, she could handle no more.

"No," she quietly moaned, tears burning her eyes as she slowly climbed to her shaking feet, oblivious to the stares that she was garnering. "_No_," she whispered again, her voice cracking as she lifted trembling hands until they were pressed firmly against her ears. "Stop it, stop it, stopitstopitstopit!" she said, her voice ending in a tortured gasp as she turned and stumbled from the room, her slayer speed, agility and grace abandoning her as she crashed into the wall opposite the door and then angled down the hall.

Back in the room, students and teacher alike stared at the open doorway in muted shock. Buffy Summers was nothing if not always composed and collected. She was the picture of strength and... well, strength. To see her trembling and in tears - it was a sight that none could wrap their minds around. Without a word, Harry stood from his desk, eyes locking with Remus' for the briefest of seconds before he turned and jogged from the room. He didn't know what had just happened, but he intended to find out. Even when facing down a basilisk and a squad of Death Eaters, Buffy had never looked afraid. But just then - she had looked horrified and so scared that it tore at him.

Biting his lip, Harry pushed the thought aside and hurried down the hall, his robes flapping behind him as he moved more on instinct than anything else. Within minutes he was pushing through the doors to the castle and exploded out into the bright afternoon light on the grassy grounds. Turning, it only took seconds for his eyes to light on Buffy's small frame as she collapsed on the ground beside the lake. Without thought he quickly jumped from the castle steps and hurried towards her, stilling only as he drew near.

"Buffy?" he asked, his voice quiet so as not to startle her. He had promised her that he would not forget his first lesson that she had ever taught him - the lesson on how dangerous it was to surprise a Slayer. But despite his words, Buffy seemed oblivious to the world around her. She laid on the ground, curled into a small, tight ball with her face buried and her shoulders shaking from the force of her sobs. "Buffy?" he tried again as he dropped to his knees beside her. Unsure, he gently reached a hand out and let it rest on her small shoulder. And when she didn't attack him in response, he fell the rest of the way beside her and gently drew her into his arms - surprised that she let him. "Shh," he soothed as she allowed herself to be cradled against his chest, her face buried in his black robes as she cried quietly against his shoulder.

How long they remained that way, Harry didn't know. Instead, the small slayer clung to him as she cried and cried, his arms holding her close as he felt the warmth of her tears soak through his thick robes. Eventually, the tears began to dry and Buffy's sobs quieted until both continued to sit in silence, the sun's rays warming their backs.

"I'm sorry," Buffy finally murmured, feeling control filter through her system as she remained hidden amongst Harry's voluminous robes, trying to find the energy to care about the scene she just caused. It had just been too much - way too much for her to handle. The memories had come back too strong, unbidden, and she had found herself defenseless against them. "I-I just..."

"What happened?" Harry murmured as he shifted slightly, yet never pulling away.

"The - the curse was just... it was just..." she murmured, trying to find words to explain the inexplicable terror that had filtered through her veins.

"What about the curse? I don't understand," Harry admitted, gently pulling her closer against him.

Sighing, Buffy slowly pulled a calming breath as she contemplated Harry's question. How could she possibly make him understand? Even though her hell had ended four months ago, she had never once talked about it - had never had the strength nor desire to speak of it. Maybe... maybe it was time. As Harry tried to pull back to look at her face, Buffy refused to let him, using her strength to instead pull him closer so that her face remained hidden. "Last summer... last summer some people came and took me away," she murmured, hating how weak and scared her voice sounded. "They wanted to control me - to make me their weapon," she added, the tears returning to her eyes. "They... they killed my mom," she whispered, her voice breaking at the admission. "I was standing right there but I couldn't do anything. They killed her and I couldn't do anything," she whispered, her voice sounding so soft and broken. "For months they... t-they hurt me, and twisted me, and four months ago they used me to kill four innocent people," she said, shuddering as the image of Quentin Travers blinked before her mind's eye. "I killed them with my bare hands and I almost killed Giles," she admitted. "It almost killed me. It should have killed me."

For a moment, Harry sat in stunned silence, trying to wrap his mind around her words. Someone had taken her? Hurt her? Suddenly the haunted look that she tried so hard to hide, but often times slipped through unnoticed... now it all made sense. Swallowing slowly, Harry realized that the girl that they had met and welcomed into their circle wasn't really Buffy Summers. Instead, it was the front that the real girl put up to hide her pain, for within, she was as shattered as they came. And from the sounds of it, the pain was eating her whole. For a moment Harry thought to protest her statement, to remind her of how much her life meant not only to the friends she talked of back home, but to the people at Hogwarts and the wizarding world. But even as his mouth opened around those words, Harry closed it as he instead hugged Buffy tighter against him.

After Cedric's death, Harry had thought much the same thing. He knew that it should have been him that died that night - it should have been him that took the portkey to Voldemort. The bastard had planned it that way and Harry managed to ruin everything. After it had happened Harry had been devastated. In response, everyone had told him those same meaningless platitudes. He knew that they meant them, but it did little to ease his suffering. If anything, it became a litany that had no value. He didn't _care_ what was best for others or how much the world needed him. All he cared about was the fact that someone innocent had died because of him. And in Buffy's case, it was that much worse. Not only did an innocent die because of her, but they died at her own hand.

Sighing, Harry instead offered the only thing he could offer. Himself. "My parents were killed by Voldemort when I was only one," he whispered, feeling her body begin to relax against him as his words washed over them both. "I don't remember them at all all I have left are a few photographs and the memory of my mother's voice, pleading for my life to be spared and Voldemort's laughter as he murdered her. She died protecting me," he murmured, his voice hollow, and feeling bleak despite the sun's warm rays. It was as though a shadow had settled around their huddled frames. "Voldemort has been after me ever since attacking anyone that I love in order to get to me. In my fourth year he fixed a tournament that I was in so that I would win, changing the trophy into a portkey that would take me to him. But I insisted that another contestant, Cedric Diggory, take the trophy at the same time as me. I-I didn't know that it was a portkey," he whispered, his voice falling silent as the memories plagued his tired mind. "Cedric died that night, and only because I had insisted that he take the trophy at the same time as me. Only because Voldemort continues to seek revenge upon me for something I had no control over."

A heavy silence fell over them both, and Buffy felt her tears dry as she slowly pulled away, green eyes locking with green. "I'm sorry," she whispered, finally understanding a little of why she felt so connected with the British boy. They were more alike that even she had imagined both with a past that was too tortured for someone so young. They both carried for too much guilt and far, far too much hope for their worlds. It was a bitter fate for them both. But something of what Harry had said rang false to her ears. "Harry, there's got to be another reason that Moldy Wart is always trying to kill you," she murmured, her words blunt as she tucked an errant strand of hair behind one ear. "He cant be after you just because he wants revenge for what happened sixteen years ago. That's stupid," she declared, watching as a ghost of a smile tugged at the teen's lips. "And in my experience, it's very rare to have stupid villains. That's what they have fledglings for," she added, smiling ruefully. "No, Moldy Wart is smart and he has a reason for wanting you. It's why you've been so well protected for so long," she added, thinking back to the old wizard's words from just a short week ago.

Intrigued by her words despite himself, Harry slowly leaned away, his eyes tracing over her delicate features. If he ever voiced that opinion he was sure that Buffy would beat him for it. Shaking away the thought, Harry focused on her musings. He had often raged over this same point. It had never made sense to him that Voldemort would want his blood so badly. He was just Harry nothing more. But each time he raised this point it would only garner yet another speech about how important Harry was to the wizarding communitys morale. Morale his ass. "D'you suppose that Dumbledore knows why Voldemort wants me so badly?"

"Probably not," Buffy admitted, a frown pulling at her lips, her earlier angst all but forgotten under the new mystery. "If so, then he would have done something by now."

"But why does Voldemort want me so badly, then?" Harry asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "I'm really not remarkable in any way whatsoever! Well, except for quidditch," he countered. "I do play a mean game of quidditch," he admitted with a ghost of a smile returning to his lips. That was the one thing that Harry felt he could truly and honestly brag about. He didn't really do anything to defeat Voldemort when he was a baby. His mother's love covered that task. Instead, everything was just a matter of circumstance, both bad and good a matter of destiny. Quidditch and flying, on the other hand, were things that were all Harry Potter.

Smiling at Harry's unabashed confidence in his flying abilities, Buffy slowly shook her head before a thoughtful frown pulled at her features. "Your phenomenal quidditch abilities aside," she added, rolling her eyes at the teen, "theres gotta be something else like your connection with Voldemort," she added as she lifted one small hand and gently traced the outline of the red scar that his hair usually hid so well.

Forcing himself to not pull away from her gentle touch, Harry sighed. "Dumbledore once told me that when Voldemort used the killing curse on me when I was a baby, some of his powers were transferred to me," he reluctantly admitted. "But the only power that I can figure out that he gave me was me being a parsel tongue."

"No," Buffy argued, her brow wrinkling as she allowed all of her senses to open to the boy before her. "You're different somehow different than the others," she murmured, her body thrumming with the power that radiated off of his form. "I can sense it," she added, her green eyes opening as she met his own confused gaze.

"Sense _what_?" he asked as he shook his head.

"Sense you," Buffy returned, her expression turning thoughtful. "It's like I was trying to tell you earlier. Certain people feel different. Dumbledore feels different he feels like power. And Harry you kind of feel like that, too, but it's more hidden," she said, frowning at her poor explanation. "It's it's like it's untapped somehow."

His head beginning to whirl at her explanations, Harry quickly shook his head. "Wait hold on you can sense magic?" he asked, his eyes widening slightly at this revelation.

"Can't you?" Buffy asked, as though being able to sense magic was the most natural thing in the world. "Can't you feel it? The magic all around you how it moves the air?"

"I guess I've never tried," he admitted, shrugging slightly at her bewildered expression at her eyes that seemed to say that there was no time like the present. Sighing softly, Harry closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, forcing himself to focus on the air around him. But as his shoulders began to tense, he felt Buffy's hand pull on his, bringing him back to her.

"Not like that," she instructed, her voice soft. "Close your eyes and relax open yourself to everything around you."

Sighing once again, Harry did as he was told, closing his eyes and allowing her words to soothe him. Once more he lost all track of time as his senses expanded. First he became aware of his sense of touch as Buffy's hands became all the warmer in his own so soft and warm - an anchor - while the winds cool breeze ruffled his black hair. And then came sound as he heard the wind push the water towards the shore, gently swelling and crashing against the grassy edge. And then.. and then came something else. Intrigued, Harry began to feel what felt like twinges of something like twinges of power sparks of energy. It was disorientating. Buffy was right. The power was all around him. The magic was all around him. Arching his back, Harry allowed this new sense to take in the magic that surrounded him, continuing to arch and turn until he was facing towards a spot where the energy was crackling. Opening his eyes, he found that he wasn't really surprised that he was facing Buffy, sitting primly before him. "Youre different."

"Good," Buffy murmured, a small smile lifting her lips. "Giles said that the stuff that makes me so strong and heal so fast all that good stuff is some kind of magic that got transferred to me when the previous slayer died and when I was called," she explained, shrugging away her words. "Apparently all slayers have it but Giles and Mr. Fellows explained that it's different than your kind of magic. The two magics dont mix, or something, and that's why I'm not affected by your magic." Smiling wryly, Buffy realized that Giles and Samuel Fellows had found out what made her so different than her friends and the rest of the world. They unlocked the secret of the Slayer the one that the Centre had worked so hard to find. And in the end, it was something that the Centre could never use to make someone like her. Apparently, they were _really_ looking in the wrong place.

Suddenly, Harry pushed her hands away and clamped his hands down over his ears, his eyes squeezing shut. "Turn it off," he ordered, his voice hard as he quickly shook his head. "How do you turn it off?"

"Turn it off?" Buffy echoed, confused by his words. "Harry, it's a part of you. You can't just turn it off."

"But I don't want anything that came from Voldemort. I don't want anything that's his," he declared, his voice filled with such venom so much familiar venom that it tore at her heart.

His plea was one that she could understand all too easily. How often had she asked for that very same thing when she was first called? Demanding the fates to take away what they had given her so that she could be normal once more. So that she could be _her_ again. Her and no one else especially not some mystic Slayer chick that came with super powers and a sucky destiny that equaled death. "You don't always want what fate gives you, but most times, you don't have a choice in the matter," she murmured as she gently lifted his chin, his brilliant green eyes slipping open to lock with her own. "Do you think that I wanted to be the slayer and everything, all the pain that came with it? Destiny sucks, hard core," she whispered, smiling sadly at the bitter truth of her words. "I've been aware of this fact for the last four years. After all, being the Slayer has cost me any chance of growing up, of getting married, having kids of dying old. Being the Slayer killed me when I was only sixteen, made me send my first love to Hell, allowed me to almost kill a fellow slayer and being a slayer killed my mom and almost destroyed me," she whispered, forcing herself to continue meeting his haunted eyes.

"I never wanted this and I've tried running from it before. It doesn't work," Buffy stated, her face grim. "It always manages to catch up in the end. And you know what? It really sucks growing up knowing that youre never going to grow old. However, I learned the hard way that theres no avoiding destiny. In that regard, I think that we're both in the same boat," she murmured, a small smile lifting her lips. "I know that you never wanted to be the Boy-Who-Lived, but you are and you just gotta deal with it."

As a comfortable silence fell between them, Harry thought about her words - about how much bitterness her voice lacked. It was as if she had come to terms with what she was long ago and now merely went on. She had no choice. And maybe, neither did he. "Okay, but we still don't know why he wants me dead," Harry stated, changing the subject and pushing her words to the side to be pondered another time.

"Don't we?" Buffy countered, a frown pulling at her lips. "Harry, I think that it's staring us right in the face," she stated, her eyes drifting away to stare out over the lake. "Voldemort knows that he gave you a big jolt of something that night that your parents died - the night that he gave you that scar," she murmured, turning back to trace her finger over the inflamed skin. "He gave you his magic, and with that magic he gave you the power to destroy him."

For a moment, Harry could only stare at Buffy in stunned silence. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Him, having some kind of grand power inherited from Voldemort himself... it was beyond ridiculous. It was frightening. "But... but I'm not special," Harry protested weakly, his eyes pleading with her to take back her horrid words. Having inherited Voldemort's parsel tongue was bad enough... but to have inherited his power? His magical strength? What else did he inherit? What if Harry had the potential to become as evil as him? As twisted?

"Harry, we already covered that," Buffy murmured, smiling sadly as she gently squeezed his hand. "You have the power in you - I can feel it," she stated, knowing the truth behind her words, even if Harry didn't want to hear them. "You just don't know how to use it yet."

Frowning, Harry slowly shook his head. "Alright, so saying that I do have this power that you're talking about," he allowed, "and not saying that I do... how _do_ I learn to use it?"

At his question, Buffy could only shrug her small shoulders, an impish grin lifting her lips. "Beats me," she admitted. "Don't you remember? This magic stuff is all out of my league. Besides, maybe this is something that you can't be trained in, or something that you can't learn," she mused, her eyes losing focus. Despite the fact that as a Slayer, the training never really stopped, she also remembered a time, upon first being called, that she had no training and instead relied upon the natural gift that, even without training, put her a step above the rest. She was stronger and had a natural inclination to any weapon she put her mind to. "Maybe it's just sitting there, waiting, and when the time comes that you need it, it'll be there and you'll just _know._"

Sighing, Harry allowed himself to entertain that thought for the briefest of moments before a scowl uncharacteristically twisted his features. "That's stupid," he declared, willing himself to actually believe that as much as he wanted to. "I can't be the one to defeat Voldemort, no matter how much everyone else thinks I can," he continued, his chin lifting stubbornly. "Voldemort and I already tried fighting each other back in fourth year and we learned the hard way that our wands can't be used against each other," he insisted, thinking back to the night that Cedric died and Voldemort was resurrected... the night that he was faced with the echo of his parents.

"So don't use your wand," Buffy suggested, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Willow and Giles and the others had been doing magic for years without a wand. To her, it was the idea of actually using a wand that was foreign.

Shocked, Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, completely floored by her words. Not use his wand? "Buffy, a wizard can't do magic without his wand," he whispered, as all the while a part of him asked himself why not.

"You can't?"

Surprised, both teens turned at the new voice, a long shadow casting them both into darkness as Buffy fought the urge to instinctively pull away from Harry's side. As it was, she was settled comfortably on the grass between his legs, leaning slightly against his arm so that she could meet his eyes. Shaking her head, Buffy smiled warmly at the old wizard, smirking at Dumbledore's choice of bright, neon-blue robes. "You really like doing that, don't you?" she asked, part annoyed and other part amused by his innate ability to just appear before someone when they least expected him. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if the guy was somewhat psychic - or maybe it was his power. If that was the case, she sincerely hoped that Harry didn't get this weird when he fully embraced the power she knew he contained.

Turning to the young Slayer, Dumbledore returned her smile, his blue eyes twinkling. "Of course," he confirmed, winking at her before returning to his young student. "Well, Mr. Potter, haven't you ever done magic without your wand?"

"No-" Harry began, about to deny the claim without even fully thinking about the question. But then, as his eyes widened slightly, Harry began remembering all of the small things that had just happened while growing up when he had wanted it most - such as setting the snake free in the zoo on Dudley's birthday all those years ago. Confused, he slowly turned to his mentor. "Just... just small things. I guess I never really thought about it before. We've never been taught anything about it in our classes."

Smiling gently at the confused child, Dumbledore nodded his head gravely. "That is because wandless magic is very, very difficult and very few can do it," he explained as he settled his old bones on the grass beside the two teens. "It requires a great deal of concentration, will, and great power. Wandless magic is like a forgotten art and there are few who still practice it." At this, a serene smile lifted the Headmaster's lips as his eyes grew distant, his silence stretching until he returned from whatever fond memory had captured him and returned his attention back to his companions. "It just so happens that young Mr. Potter here happens to possess all three of these qualifications."

Harry didn't need to voice his confusion for his complete and utter bafflement to be apparent - it was written all over his face. Apparently, an old lesson that had been forgotten with time was in order. Smiling serenely, Dumbledore adopted his long missed air of a professor and turned to the young Gryffindor with sparkling eyes. "Much like a Muggle lightning rod, a wand is used as a conduit to channel the magic that each witch and wizard contains within themselves, sheltering them from the raw edge of it. Likewise, spells and incantations give focus to the magic. In the end, neither is needed if the wizard or witch is strong enough to shelter themselves and control their magics, focused enough on their own to act by their thought's command."

Even as a part of Harry groaned at the many wasted hours he spent on perfecting his Latin and working to get each syllable just right, another greater part of him found himself beginning to resent the headmaster's words. Apparently Buffy was wrong when she said that she didn't think that Dumbledore knew exactly why Voldemort wanted him dead so badly - and that knowledge set like a betrayal on his mind. Harry couldn't count the number of times throughout the years that he had gone to this great man, this mentor to all young students at Hogwarts, and asked the whys that plagued his life. To think that Dumbledore had known the answers to those questions all along... it hurt. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" he asked, dismayed by the hurt that crept into his voice.

Sighing at the note of betrayal in the young lad's voice, Dumbledore smiled wanly at the couple - even as Buffy took young Harry Potter's hand in her own. "Because you weren't ready for it. You weren't ready to face your destiny," he replied, his words blunt and having the desired effect as the boy blanched and then quickly straightened, a small spark of fire burning in his green eyes that were so much like his mother's. "However, with Miss Summers help," he added before Harry could protest, his kind eyes skipping over to the remarkable young woman who had survived so much to come to where she was today, "I believe that you have reached that point."

"But I don't understand," Harry murmured petulantly as his stubborn mind refused to wrap itself around the headmaster's words. "Why me? Why does it have to be me to fight Voldemort? I mean... he's afraid of you! Why can't you-"

"No, my boy. Voldemort doesn't fear me. Not any longer," Dumbledore sighed, and as Harry Potter's shoulders sagged beneath a great weight, the aging headmaster realized that he was finally beginning to understand. Harry was beginning, although reluctantly, to understand the role that he must yet play. "In my day I had the power to defeat Grindewald, but alas... time is finally catching up with me," he murmured, admitting his weaknesses readily. "Power cannot diminish with time, by my physical strength can. My body is getting too weak to harness the powers that I contain, and Voldemort knows this," he sighed, tired eyes looking upon the young boy that contained the hope for their world. "I'm afraid that in the end, it will have to come down to you, my boy."

"But you're not going to have to face him alone," Buffy interrupted, daring Dumbledore to try and argue against her. "That's the one thing that's kept me alive for these past five years - the friends that always stood by my side. When they're not there, bad things tend to happen," she added, her expression going dark as she thought of an intense sword fight where Angelus had asked her the very same question. He had taken away her weapons, her friends, her hope... and when asked in the end what was left, she had replied that she was. Simply Buffy. And that Buffy had proceeded to kick his ass. She had won that battle, but at a cost that was too great to thing long on. Without weapons, without friends, and most importantly, without hope she had lost Angel to hell. She would die before she'd let Harry be faced with those same choices - with that same decision. "You're not going to face him alone," she repeated, her voice firm. "I can keep him busy while you do your mojo," she explained, squeezing Harry's hand to still his protests. "Don't forget - his stuff can't hurt me, and besides, I've been itching to kick his ass for quite a while now," she added with a small grin.

Despite the horror that filled his veins with ice at the thought of Buffy facing down Voldemort himself, Harry couldn't help but be grateful for her words. Just knowing that he wouldn't have to face the Dark Lord alone was enough to make his task at least somewhat bearable... somewhat. "Sirius won't be happy to hear about this," he murmured absently, his mind going back to the vicious words that he and his godfather had exchanged nearly a week ago.

"No, I imagine not," Dumbledore agreed, the inane smile never leaving his lips. Yet despite the smile, if Buffy looked close enough she could almost swear that there was a bit of sadness behind his gaze - as though he didn't want this destiny for Harry anymore than Harry himself did. "None of them will be pleased to hear of it. They love you too much to think of you going in harm's way."

"Giles still has a hard time dealing with my fate," Buffy admitted wryly, speaking what everyone in the castle was aware of. "He still refuses to let me go out each night to face the bad stuff on my own, even though I've done it almost every night since I was called. Even though he knows that it's what I do - what I'm there for - he's trying to ignore what it all means." Sighing, Buffy slowly shook her head. "I know that he wishes that he could take my place, but he can't. Because, like it or not, this is _my_ destiny," she said, her voice growing hard before softening again, her eyes seeking out Harry's. "Some day Sirius will realize the same thing for you."

Shaking his head, his unruly black hair obscuring his vision, Harry slowly leaned forward and allowed his arms to tighten around Buffy's small frame, thankful that she didn't pull away. "Until then... let's not tell him. Any of them," Harry murmured, his green eyes pleading with Buffy and Dumbledore both to accept this small request. "I don't want them to worry until they have to."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed, the smallest of frowns flitting across his features before they settled once more into a calm facade. "And since you seem to be free of your classes for the afternoon," he continued, his lips lifting slightly at Harry and Buffy's guilty eyes, "why don't you come to my office now? We can begin daily lessons on honing your concentration and practicing your wandless magic."

"Only if I can tag along," Buffy quickly threw in, arching her neck so that her gaze could meet Harry's, silently asking him if it was alright. "I'm curious," she admitted to his unasked question.

"As Hermione would say, I guess there's no time like the present," Harry agreed, finally releasing Buffy and then accepting her hand up, their hands lingering longer than necessary before both broke away, small smiles lifting their lips. Small smiles that, of course, didn't go unnoticed by the headmaster.

"Are you sure about joining us?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes returning to the petite blonde. "For your presence would require both quiet and stillness," he cautioned, citing the two things that she was notorious for lacking - at least according to her watcher, who was still fuming about the sleeping potion that she had given him, last he saw.

"Hey, I'm capable - somewhat," she admitted, grinning impishly at their skepticism. "I'll behave. Promise."

Shaking his head, Dumbledore merely sighed as the two linked arms and began leading the way back to the castle. How that boy planned on concentrating with Buffy Summers in the room was a mystery. Then again, if he managed with the distractions of a certain blonde slayer, then perhaps the boy did stand a chance of facing Lord Voldemort himself. Hopefully... for if not, their world was lost.


	18. Chapter 18

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 18  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"I'll lean on you and you lean on me and we'll be okay."**  
-Dave Matthews Band-

With the warm spring sun beating down on the heads of the teens, Buffy could almost believe that she was back home in Sunnydale, California. Almost. But instead of the mixed smell of the sea salt and the lingering ozone and pollution that drifted over from her birthplace of Los Angeles, all Buffy could smell here was the clean and unpolluted air of the northern Scottish lands that surrounded them at least, she was pretty sure that the castle was located in northern Scotland. She was still a bit fuzzy on all of the details - like how exactly a place like Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could go undetected by the rest of the muggle population that had to surround them. Sometimes, she could almost believe that they were in a different universe or alternate reality. As long as Willow didn't show up in skanky clothes and with a vampire visage, she was all good.

"So, this Haggard person is half giant, right?" Buffy asked, shaking away her musings and turning back to the friends that escorted her across the green expanse that surrounded Hogwarts.

"Hagrid, and yes," Hermione agreed as she absently tucked an errant auburn strand behind one ear. "Hagrid's mother is a full giant and his father is a wizard."

"Which means that no, you can't slay him," Ron added, grinning innocently at her and ignoring the small blonde's scowl. "Hagrid is the Care of Magical Creatures professor and the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts," he explained, his red hair dazzling in the bright afternoon sunshine. "Ever since You-Know-Who came back, Hagrid's been going back and forth between here and the giant community, trying to keep peace between them. It's because of him that the giants haven't joined with You-Know-Who yet."

"Which is why I haven't met him yet," Buffy added, smiling softly as her eyes drifted across the lawn and locked on the small cottage that they were rapidly approaching. In the past month or so since she had been at Hogwarts, she had given little thought to the deserted, strange looking cottage that rested on the border of the school grounds, right next to the Forbidden Forest. Now, though, it was obvious that the cottage's owner had returned as, despite the warm afternoon, a small plume of dark smoke drifted lazily out of the small chimney that adorned the patched roof.

"You'll like Hagrid," Harry assured from beside her as his hand automatically found her own, interlocking her small fingers with his - Ron and Hermione thankfully staying quiet at the sight. He wasn't quite sure when he and Buffy had begun holding hands as they moved side by side, but it seemed so natural that he hadn't bothered questioning it. Luckily, neither had anyone else - yet. In the case of Ron, Harry was sure that his silence had more to do with his girlfriend than anything else. Nevertheless, Harry was grateful for it as it allowed him and Buffy to just be. Harry beamed down at the small blonde at his side. "Hagrid was the person who first fetched me from my aunt and uncle and introduced me to the wizarding world. He's been a good friend of ours ever since."

Smiling softly, Buffy's gaze drifted back to the cottage that they were rapidly approaching. Despite her relatively short time at Hogwarts, she already knew quite a bit about Hogwarts' groundskeeper. There didn't seem to be very many stories that _didn't_ involve the half-giant in some way. Not that the fact was too surprising. As Buffy had quickly come to learn, while not the stereotypical American family, the people that resided in Hogwarts were the closest thing that some of them had ever had to a family - especially in the case of Harry. There was Sirius, the godfather and main paternal figure, Remus, the professor, mentor, and favored uncle, the entire Weasley family, which provided the mother and the siblings amongst another father-figure, and then there was Dumbledore, the mentor and eccentric grandfatherly figure. Where exactly she fit into the picture was still up in the air, she realized as she shot their clasped hands a side glance.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure we'll be like Giles and obscure demon texts," Buffy returned flippantly after realizing that they were still waiting for her to respond, gently squeezing Harry's hand - only to hastily bluster on at his confused expression. "I'm sure we'll get along famously," she tried again, attempting her best British accent and failing miserably as everyone shared knowing looks. How odd to think that they could do such a thing after only knowing her for a little over a month. Then again, seeing as how they pretty much made up the extent of those that were around their age, maybe there was little doubt that such a closeness could be formed in such little time.

"I rather think that our accents are a little more polished than that," Ron returned dryly, raising his eyes to the heavens in a silent plea. "To think that after your many long years with Giles that you would at least be able to suffer us through a _decent_ rendition of our impeccable and intelligent-sounding-"

"Well that would require talking, wouldn't it?" Buffy quipped, forcing a bright smile as she resisted the urge to pound her head against the nearest wall at the thought of her watcher. It had now been over two weeks since she slipped Giles the sleeping potion and they had yet to hold a civil conversation... or rather, _any_ sort of conversation that didn't revolve around the necessities of life. In addition, he had also taken up the habit of guarding his food and drink very closely and even worse, quite obviously. It was embarrassing as well as a slight against her that she couldn't ignore. So yes, she did betray him by slipping him a drug to free her up for patrol, but she was only doing it to protect him. And in the end, this small betrayal was so insignificant compared to the time when he betrayed her for the Council over a year ago. And did she hang onto that grudge?... well, maybe privately, but she certainly didn't parade around _his_ mistakes for the rest of the world to marvel at. And besides, he didn't even have the excuse that his actions were for her protection. His actions almost got her killed.

Sighing, Buffy wearily lifted one small hand and pinched the bridge of her nose as she fought off the anger that was even now threatening to consume her. This wasn't the time to get all bent out of shape - again. She'd have the chance to work out her aggression on some poor hapless demon later that night. Luckily, further thought on such matters were quickly shoved aside as the large door to the cabin opened before them, releasing a hairy man from its dark depths who could only be described as... giant. Gaping openly, Buffy froze in her tracks as her eyes drifted over his shambled clothing, thick and wiry hair, and beady black eyes that narrowed and then widened in recognition of the teens that were spread before him, a large smile hidden amongst his black beard.

"I was beginnin' ta wonder when ye'd be comin' ta visit me," the large, half-giant boomed as identical smiles lifted the lips of the Hogwarts' teens as they quickly hurried forward, dragging Buffy along and only pausing as they closed the distance between them, necks arched back to meet Hagrid's eyes.

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry greeted, grinning from ear to ear as he withstood a mighty clap on the shoulders from the gameskeeper.

"We only got word that you arrived back from your travels this morning," Hermione added, a small frown pulling at her lips. "Which reminds me, where _have_ you been?"

Customarily ignoring the girl's question, Hagrid sighed softly. "Aye, an' tis good to be back, right ye are," he agreed, smiling slightly as his large boarhound burst from the darkened cabin, woofing appreciatively at the group and clamoring around them to be recognized. "Easy now, Fang," he ordered gruffly as the dog nearly bowled over a petite blonde who was wearing some of the strangest clothing he had ever seen - which was saying a lot, considering the half century that he had been around. "An' who might yer friend be?" he asked, smiling warmly as Harry straightened, beaming as his hand found the girl's and pulled her to his side.

"Hagrid, I'd like you to meet Buffy Summers," Harry stated proudly, grinning as Buffy craned her neck back to meet the half giant's eyes. As the shortest amongst them, she was by far the most disadvantaged by Hagrid's large height. Actually, Buffy was about the same height he had been when he had met Hagrid all those years before.

"Buffy, ye say?" Hagrid asked, scratching his chin through his bristling beard. "Well that's an odd name, that one is."

"Like Hagrid isn't?" Buffy retorted dryly, long-since accustomed to the reactions that her name brought about.

At Buffy's words, Hagrid's smile grew larger as a booming laugh echoed across the grounds of Hogwarts. "Aye, that it is," he agreed, his eyes crinkling slightly before turning back to lock on Harry. "She's a firecracker, that one is," he added, watching as both teens flushed at his words. "Well, what brings ye ta Hogwarts?"

"Buffy's the Vampire Slayer," Ron broke in, offering his first words to the half-giant and completely missing the way that Buffy habitually shuddered at the name. "She's been patrolling the Forbidden Forest for the past month or so."

"The Slayer, did ye say?" Hagrid returned, his expression turning thoughtful as his eyes took in the small girl once more. "Well yer a wee thing, aren't ya? Didn't know tha' Slayers came tha' small."

"Oh, we come in all shapes and sizes," Buffy assured, eyes sparkling as she squeezed Harry's hand. He was right, she _did_ like the half-giant. Despite his intimidating appearance, he obviously had such a gentle character that it was impossible _not_ to be charmed by him. What wasn't to like? "If you're going to be back here for awhile, maybe you'd like to come on patrol with me some night?"

"Aye, it's been a long while since I've visited me friends in th' forest," Hagrid agreed, a small smile lifting his lips as his dark eyes turned to the dark reaches of the wood just beyond his little cottage. "Aragog hasn' been givin' you no trouble, then? He an' 'is kin don' usually like strangers in their parts."

"Can't say I've met your friend," Buffy returned, frowning softly, "but Firenze sent word to the locals to give me a wide berth when I go and play in the Forest - safer for everyone that way," she explained lightly, blushing slightly as she remembered her first night when she managed to bring down Professor Lupin himself.

"So how long _will_ you be staying?" Harry asked, redirecting the conversation as his eyes returned to his friend. He really had missed Hagrid, for just seeing the half-giant roaming the grounds of Hogwarts during the odd hours of the day added a bit of normalcy to a place that had been so disrupted in the past few months.

"Can't rightly say," Hagrid returned with what was supposed to be a small shrug, but of course looked monstrous on the half-giant. "Until Dumbledore needs me ta go ou' again - although, I hope I can stay long enough ta see ta Berry."

"Berry?" Ron returned, his facing paling as he shot his friends frantic glances. A new friend of Hagrid's never promised positive things for the rest of the world. Memories of Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts in his first year of teaching were still far too recent. "Who's Berry?"

"I'll show ya!" Hagrid boomed as he clapped Ron so hard on the back that he was sent careening into Buffy and Harry.

Wincing, the teen slowly massaged his aching shoulder before following the half-giant around the side of the cottage and to the small pen that sat behind it... the small pen that was currently housing an animal that he had never before seen and one that Hermione had only seen in books. "What the-"

"A blood-sucking bugbear?" Hermione squeaked, answering Ron's question before he could fully form it. "Hagrid, where on Earth did you find a bugbear?" she asked, her wide eyes locking on what closely resembled a massive grizzly bear, only blood-red in color, lying on the ground on the other side of the pen.

"I found 'im in me travels in... well, I can't rightly say," he mumbled, frowning at the girl before climbing over the fence and moving to the bugbear's side, beckoning for the teens to follow. "He was hurt real bad by a hunter and I though' I'd see ta fixin' 'im up," Hagrid stated proudly as he tore his eyes away from the wounded animal to the three teens that had joined him, albeit very reluctantly. Three teens. Confused, Hagrid turned away from the Hogwarts trio and located the small blonde, still safely located on the other side of the fence from where she watched them all with wide green eyes. "It s'alright," he called out, unwittingly drawing attention back to the girl whose face was growing paler by the minute. "Berry won't hurt'cha. They're very gentle by nature, only real interested in rooster an' such, an' only attack when they're threaten'," he said, smiling brightly as the girl shrank even further away from them all.

"Buffy?" Harry asked, hesitantly taking a step towards her as she took a step back, her muscles tensed and obviously warring with herself.

"I'll... I'll catch up with you guys later," Buffy forced out, plastering on the smile even as she felt as though she was breaking on the inside. "It was nice meeting you, Hagrid," she added before turning back towards the castle. And even though her body screamed at her to run like she'd never run before, she forced her body to ignore her heart's cry and instead forced her step to remain slow and even. She had lost control of herself once already in front of these people... in front of her friends. She wouldn't do it again. Couldn't. But God... the blood-red bear...

Unnoticed, tears began sliding down her cold cheeks as Buffy wrapped her arms around her slim form, willing the shaking to go away. Willing the weakness to go away. But it wasn't that easy. It hadn't been that easy since everything had changed and that was what drove her anger to new levels most nights. A slayer wasn't supposed to be weak. They weren't supposed to cry and break down at the sight of harmless, everyday things. And if they were, no one should see it because the world needed to believe that the slayer was strong. But even though she knew that - knew it better than anything else - she also knew that such control had been lost to her. The months of torture that she had endured at the Centre's hands had scarred her too heavily for words to heal - perhaps for anything to heal. It was a bitter pill, and one that she was only beginning to swallow.

So lost in her thoughts, Buffy didn't even hear the other person approaching until Harry was gently pulling at her elbow, quietly asking her to stop and turn towards him. Releasing a sigh that was more sob than breath, Buffy lifted her red-rimmed eyes and met his own emerald gaze, filled with such concern that it warmed her broken heart as she stepped into his silent embrace. And then, before she realized what she was doing, Buffy felt the quiet sobs shake her shoulders as Harry held her, saying nothing and allowing her to release the pain in the only way that was available to her with no demon nearby to slay - in the way that she had been avoiding for so long.

And as the Slayer cried in his arms, Harry felt a wave of emotion so intense that it was hard for him at first to put a name to it. Anger - there was definitely anger as he silently raged against whatever muggles had done this to her. Had so effortlessly reduced the proud slayer to the fragile person that she had become. Oh, she was still as lethal and determined as they came - a warrior to be reckoned with... but on the inside, everything was so precarious that it pained him to see her hurting so badly. And the way he held her screamed of his desire to shelter her and protect the small girl from any further pain - a wish that many had held for the petite slayer over the years, but something that few were able to truly give her. And then... there was also the sprinklings of something that was more than mere affection, but something he dared not call love for no other reason than how much that thought truly frightened him. Frightened him because of what it meant to the present, and more importantly, what it meant to a future that was so impossible for either.

Sighing softly, Buffy slowly pulled away from Harry's comforting embrace, her eyes refusing to meet his and instead resting on her small hands. These hands had seen years of combat and heartache. Much of the death and destruction that forever circled her life were caused by these hands. It was these hands that would haunt her. "I killed it," she finally murmured, surprising them both with her whispered words as she lifted her gaze and met Harry's troubled eyes. "They probably starved it, or beat it or something, but when they let it into the room with me... I had no choice," she whispered, her eyes dropping back to her deceptively small, innocent looking hands. Funny, for how could a hand be innocent or guilty? Yet in her case, her hands screamed their guilt. "I had no weapons and the bear was trying to kill me so... I killed it. I killed it with my own hands," she murmured, weakly trying to resist as Harry forced her chin to rise until her eyes were locked with his once more.

"You didn't have a choice," he whispered, his voice firm and daring her to argue. "You said so yourself that you didn't have a choice."

"I know," she murmured, her green eyes blinking shut and breaking their connection as she pulled forward until she was wrapped once more in his warm embrace, her cheek cushioned against the soft wool of his black robe. "I'm sorry... I just... seeing the bear, it just brought it all back. It was so unexpected-"

"Shh," Harry whispered, holding her even tighter as she buried her head against him. "You don't have to explain. You never have to explain," he added as he held her close, absently brushing a soft kiss against her forehead and comforting her in the only way that he knew how, all the while unaware of the eyes that watched them both.

Giles watched the exchange through shuttered eyes from the roof of the astronomy tower high above his slayer and the young wizard. He had escaped to the highest tower in hopes of finding clarity for his struggle with his ward, only to have his eyes alight upon the two far below. He had witnessed Buffy's hasty departure from Hagrid's cottage and had recognized the stiff tilt to her shoulders all too well. Something had brought her back to the cold place that the Centre had created for her, and he winced as Harry hurried to catch up with her. He had been expecting his slayer to shove off his advances and attempts at comfort in the same manner that she had continuously done to both him and her other friends in the weeks after her return to them - he had not expected her to turn and fall into his embrace. While a part of him rejoiced at seeing his slayer finally receive the comfort that he knew she so desperately needed, another part of him stiffened at the thought that the comfort she had refused from him and her friends was coming at the hands of a boy that was closer to a stranger than any of them. It hurt to know that perhaps she didn't need him as much as he needed her.

Sighing softly, Giles closed his eyes against the sight and slowly turned away. There was work to be done and it didn't do for him to dally up on the tower. There was work and with work came blessed relief from his doubts and fears - from his anger at Buffy's actions. For his guilt at his own betrayal that Buffy continued to throw in his face. If only she realized that his guilt and his betrayal went so much further then the day he turned against her for the Council. She had forgiven him for that, but would she forgive him the knowledge that it was the remnants of that drug that enabled all that she had endured at the hands of the Centre? That it was ultimately because of him and his betrayal of his slayer that allowed her to be drugged by them to the point where she could do nothing but endure their daily beatings and cruel taunts. Even if she could, Giles didn't dare let go of his anger at her own small mistake for the fear that he'd find out.

* * *

Willing his face into an unreadable mask, Snape watched as the others attended to the Dark Lord. Voldemort had only been under his trance for a few moments, but as the others helped their Master back to his throne, Dumbledore's willing spy couldn't help but wonder what information Voldemort had learned from Harry Potter this time. Whatever he learned, it couldn't be good, and since the snake-like king of their entourage was smiling in a way that chilled the blood of many, Snape knew that it couldn't be good for their side - not at all.

Sighing, Severus Snape melted back into the shadows of the cavernous room, his eyes alighting and then skipping past the various faces that he had come to hate. He walked a perilous line in his double dealings - a line that had become even more narrow due to the link that the Dark Lord shared with Potter. How long would it be until Voldemort learned of his double dealings during one of these visions? He knew how much Potter and his little friends despised him and he carried no doubt that the trio were bound to celebrate his absence from time to time. What if they chose to mention his spying ways while Potter was under whatever fierce emotion had been enabling the connection as of late? It seemed as though it had been better for Harry to maintain his monotonous existence that carried no surge of emotion, whether good or bad. And since the Lord had stopped conferring whatever knowledge and plans he made with the others for fear of Harry overhearing... well, there truly was no point to his continued presence there. If anything, day by day it was becoming more apparent that the greatest thing he could do was to warn the others as to what kind of information Harry was providing - before it could be put to use. It seemed that the time had come. It was time to go home.

* * *

Stooping low to reach the large, ornate fireplace that graced one of his office walls, Dumbledore reached into a small jar and pinched a handful of a fine, grainy powder between his forefinger and his thumb. With a measured toss he released the powder into the softly crackling fire before him, the flames doubling in intensity as their green light washed over his aged features. "Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, Alastor Moody," he stated, his voice summoning his old friends until one by one their heads appeared in the flames before him.

"I trust you carry better news than last we gathered," Arabella answered at once in between muffled cooing to what had to be one of her many cats.

"That would depend solely on how you look upon it," Albus returned with a small smile as he stepped back, allowing the three heads to look upon the faces of those gathered with him. Of course there was the usual assortment of witches and wizards, such as Minerva, Arthur, Molly, Sirius and Remus, but the one that the others obviously hadn't been expecting was the very large and towering form of one Rubeus Hagrid.

"So the lad has returned to the fold, then?" Moody asked, his piercing eyes roving over the half-giant's form.

"Welcome back, lad, welcome back," Fletcher called out, a crooked grin lifting his thin lips as Hagrid blushed beneath their piercing stares.

"And what news do you bring us of the giants? Perhaps vows of assistance in our fight against our common enemy?" Arabella asked, her expression belying the hope of her words.

"Nay, I'm afraid not," Hagrid responded, rubbing a hand over his thick and wiry hair. "I spen' a lot of time with me mother an' th' others, an' while they were willin' ta listen, th' giants have long memories, they do," he stated, his voice turning uncharacteristically grim. "They still remember th' persecution of their kind at th' hands of th' wizards and they refuse ta aid us," he finished, watching as the face of every witch and wizard began to crumble beneath his heavy words. "But," he added, a hesitant smile lifting his lips, "they 'ave promised me not ta involve themselves in th' fight at all. They willnae join with You-Know-Who."

"So the giants will remain neutral in this battle," Mundungus summarized, a thoughtful frown pulling at his lips.

"Well, that's something, at least," Remus added, sharing a look with the others. "If only all of our news could be so good."


	19. Chapter 19

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 19  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"O, what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!"**  
-William Shakespeare-

As the wan sunlight filtered through the heavy layering of clouds to sparkle on the crowded dining hall, the people of Hogwarts moved through their normal routines with an air that was clearly strained, their conversations hushed and their postures wary. Coming through the wide double doors after an exhausting night of patrol, this was the first thing that Buffy noted as Giles nearly plowed into her from behind, so startled by her abrupt pause on the large room's threshold. In the past, such an action would have launched some kind of rebuke, or at least a comment from either, but seeing as how their silence had been stretched over the past two weeks, nary a word was said as instead Giles brushed past his slayer and moved quietly into the hall.

Sighing, Buffy watched as the man that she had come to love as a father slowly, and obviously quite painfully, settled at the far table. This silence was getting beyond the point of ridiculous and verging on maddening. Buffy knew this, and yet each time she tried to broach the subject with her watcher, Giles only drew further away - and Buffy didn't understand why. It couldn't just be about the sleeping potion that she had drugged him with - not after all this time. But what else could be troubling their relationship was obviously very one-sided and something that the watcher seemed unwilling to share.

Rolling her eyes at his stubborn British pride, Buffy abandoned the doorway and moved across the room. It had been a long night of patrol, just as all patrols had been since Voldemort had learned of her presence in the forest. It seemed that barely a night passed that there wasn't some kind of trap or another lying in wait for her - or more specifically, for whatever plagued the Forbidden Forest and continued to decimate the Dark Lord's hold upon the misty woods. While she hadn't seen another Death Eater since that first night almost two weeks ago, the dark and magical creatures that were in Voldemort's control were certainly not lacking. That night had been particularly brutal as a group of six winged creatures quickly lay into Watcher and Slayer - thus resulting in Giles' stiffness and the long bloody scratch that marred her dirty cheek. At least sufficient time had passed that the residents of Hogwarts barely even glanced at her bedraggled and bloody appearance. After all, she had appeared in far worse condition on many a different occasion.

Shaking away her thoughts, Buffy settled heavily on the bench at the Gryffindor table across from Ron and Hermione and began reaching for her glass when her earlier observations came back to the forefront of her mind. Stilling, she slowly lifted her tired eyes and took in the large room once more - took in the grim expressions that dotted many a face, including the friends that filled their table. More importantly, she noticed the absence of a certain raven-haired teen. "What's happened? Where's Harry?" she asked, her eyes leveling on the teens who sat opposite of her.

At her words, a small shudder went through Hermione as Ron gently pulled her against his side. "Harry had another vision during the night," he explained, his expression the grimmest that she had ever seen on his freckled face. "Azkaban has fallen," he whispered, his words causing many a witch and wizard to stiffen as they overheard his grim announcement.

Confused, Buffy threw a glance down the table to where Giles was sitting, engrossed in conversation with the elder Weasleys and looking much like Xander had spilled something on his favorite book. "So... I'm guessing that this isn't a good thing," she hazarded as Harry suddenly folded into the vacant seat beside her, Sirius squeezing his godson's shoulder before trailing past and joining the other adults at the far end of the table.

"Azkaban is the wizarding prison where all of Voldemort's followers that have been captured are being held," he explained, having arrived just in time to overhear her question. And at his friends' concerned gazes, he quickly waved his hand in assurance, signaling that beside the normal splitting headache, he was as good as ever. Sirius had somehow even managed to spring him from Madam Pomfrey's care.

"But what's worse," Ron added as he threw a concerned glance at Harry, "is that means that You-Know-Who has the dementors on his side again."

Sighing, Buffy turned to Harry and noticed how Ron's words made his pale face even paler as she searched out his hand beneath the table and squeezed it gently. As he turned to her and offered a wan smile, she returned her attention back to the others. "And once again, I'm taking that this isn't a good thing," she noted wryly before pushing her pride aside. "Okay, I'll bite. What's a dementor?"

And just as she knew it would, Buffy's question broke Hermione out of her silence as she straightened, absently brushing a wave of auburn hair from her shoulder as she looked every bit the professor she was destined to be. "A dementor is a dark magical creature that is the opposite of everything that is good," she explained, her tone clipped. "Just its presence is enough for everything to go cold as it sucks out every happy memory that you've ever had. In addition, a dementor's kiss is the muggle equivalent of the death sentence as it sucks out your soul and leaves you worse than dead," she explained brusquely, her eyes refusing to turn towards Harry.

As Hermione fell silent, Ron took up the mantle of explanation. "It's what makes a wizarding prison so horrible," he murmured, his voice falling to a whisper. "With nothing but dementors for guards, the prisoners are forced to relive their worst memories over and over again, with no happy memory to counter it. Eventually, the prisoner goes crazy."

"There's only ever been one escape from Azkaban, and that's Sirius," Hermione added as Buffy turned and looked down to where the aforementioned wizard was heavily immersed in conversation with the other adults, all grim-faced.

"Sirius was in prison?" she asked, her brow scrunching in confusion.

Sighing, Harry felt all eyes turn to him as he reluctantly took up that particular explanation. "After my parents were killed, the man who betrayed them to Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, framed Sirius for his supposed murder as well as a lot of muggles. Even Remus was convinced that Sirius was guilty and he has only been proven innocent a few years back when we were able to capture Peter and send him to Azkaban."

"So this Peter guy is now back with Moldy-Wart with all the other creeps we busted a few weeks back," Buffy surmised, finally understanding the thick feeling of gloom that blanketed the room. "How long was Sirius in your prison place?" she asked, switching back to the earlier conversation before anyone pointed out the fact that Harry's school nemesis, one Draco Malfoy, was now among the free as well.

"For twelve years," Harry returned, his voice soft as all eyes turned to secretly watch his godfather. "He was able to stay sane partly because he was really innocent, but mainly because while in his animagus form, he was buffered from the effects of the dementors."

Silently, Buffy inspected Harry's godfather with a critical eye. And as though the wizard somehow knew that he was being watched, Sirius turned away from the others and locked gazes with the small slayer. Blue eyes met hazel and Buffy was floored by a wave of understanding. For so long she had puzzled over the haunted look that was always on the edges of his gaze... a haunted look that she believed that she would forever carry. And they both shared that haunted gaze because they had both been enclosed, had both been imprisoned for far too long away from the ones that they loved.

Somber eyes locked until Buffy broke the exchange with a small, genuine smile that was returned in kind before she returned her attention to the trio. "So this means that Moldy-Wart is gonna use the dementia things against us," Buffy stated, bringing the group's doubts and fears to the forefront of the conversation. And as a thick silence fell over their little area of the table, Buffy had her answer. Shrugging away the possible addition of strange forces in the way that she handled all opponents, the petite slayer turned back to her plate and dug in with a gusto that seemed a point of contradiction to her small frame. "I wonder if their freaky-ness will affect me," she mumbled thoughtfully around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, done just the way that she liked them.

Feeling somehow reassured by her obvious disinterest in what was to come, Harry slowly shook his head and shared a look of amusement with his friends. "Well, if you're serious about being curious, then I think I know of a way to find out," he stated, Buffy's curious green eyes turning to him. "Just meet me in Lupin's classroom before dinner tonight."

"It's a date-"

"Double," Hermione interjected as she threw Harry a puzzled gaze. "A double date," she expanded before quickly linking arms with Ron. Knowing Harry as well as she did, she had no doubt that whatever he was going to attempt in the Professor's classroom was most assuredly against the rules and would undoubtedly require her and Ron... well, more specifically, Hermione herself to get them all out of trouble. It's what she did best.

* * *

"So, what's the grand plan?" Buffy asked as she stepped into the empty classroom, the waning sunlight filtering through the tall dormer windows and flooding the room with a reddish light. As she knew they would, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were already there, standing in a small circle before Professor Lupin's desk and obviously deep in debate amongst each other. "Or did I come at a bad time?" she asked, hesitating now near the doorway as all eyes turned towards her.

"No, perfect timing," Harry countered before throwing a cross glance at his two friends, both of whom looked suitably frustrated at having their questions thwarted. "Ron and Hermione were just showing their impatience to learn the same thing," he added in way of explanation as Buffy stepped fully into the room, her eyes drifting about the empty class before settling on himself, her brow arching in just the right manner to voice her question without having to repeat herself. "Right, so I overheard Remus telling Sirius that he had a boggart in his cupboard that he was going to show some of the younger students later this week," he explained, nodding towards the cupboard that sat against the far wall opposite of them.

Despite feeling as though she had asked this question far too many times today, Buffy nevertheless took up the role that she knew was expected of her. Somehow, she supposed that it went along with being the new kid on the block - especially when aforementioned kid was still being introduced to the wizarding world. "Okay, so what's a boggart?" she asked, sighing as she crossed her arms across her chest. "I thought that you were going to show me a-"

But before Buffy could have yet another opportunity to slaughter the dementor's name, Ron quickly broke in, a large grin lifting his lips. "Harry, that's brilliant!" he stated before clapping his friend on the back.

Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend, Hermione turned to the shorter girl. "A boggart is a magical creature that tends to hide in small, dark places," she explained with another quick nod at the cupboard that seemed to fascinate the other two. "They're mostly harmless, but when confronted they turn into that person's greatest fear-"

"And it just so happens that Harry's greatest fear is a dementor," Ron finished with an even larger smile as Harry flushed at his friend's words.

Groaning at his bluntness, Harry fixed Ron with a fierce glare as Buffy turned to him in concern. "Not exactly how I was going to explain it," he muttered crossly as Hermione elbowed Ron sharply.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Buffy asked, ignoring Ron's muffled protest to his girlfriend's lecture on tact as Harry's hand found hers. It was never easy for someone to face down their greatest fear - a fact that she was well aware of, even as a part of her puzzled over the idea. She had faced down so much that she couldn't help but wonder what her worst fear was. The Master? Angelus? Acathla? The Mayor?... Lyle? Grimacing at the memories that the simple thought brought about, Buffy quickly forced herself back to the present.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry turned his eyes to the cupboard that sat so innocently against the far wall. He knew that Remus would have his hide if he knew what they were about to do. "Remus said that the dementors affect me so much worse than the others because I've had to deal with more... difficult things, in my past," he explained absently before returning his attention to his friends. "But it's no big deal," he added hastily, sharing a knowing look with Ron and Hermione. "I had the chance to deal with dementors a great deal in my third year when they were looking for Sirius."

"Hey, you guys are the experts," Buffy returned evenly, burying her lingering doubts and allowing Ron to pull her and Hermione to the side of the room, well out of the way of the cupboard.

"You have to stay back so that you don't confuse the boggart," the redhead offered in way of explanation as Harry squared his shoulders and moved across the room, stilling before the cupboard door.

Harry worked on schooling his thoughts and emotions, prepping himself for the screams that he was bound to hear. He had done this before, repeatedly, and he knew what to expect. And in a strange way that he was hesitant to give voice to... he almost looked forward to this encounter. He was only a baby when his mum and dad were killed, dying to protect him, and he was far too young to have any real memories of them. Even though the sounds he heard when faced with a dementor were the sounds of his mother begging for his life and her dying screams, it was still a part of her that he desperately clung to. For even though stretched in pain, the first time he had faced a dementor was the first time that he heard his mother's voice.

With that thought to carry him, Harry reached forward with a steady hand and turned the cabinet door, pulling it open and stepping back quickly as the dementor folded itself out of the cupboard. The room darkened as a deep cold filled his veins like ice, and as the black robed creature towered above him, Harry allowed his parents' cries to echo over him... only to be muffled by the sound of Voldemort's cold voice. _Kill the spare!_ And then came Cedric Diggory, his voice a distant echo. _Harry... take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents!_ And then, worst of all, came the voices of Fred and George Weasley - one raised in an agonizing scream while the other begged for his brother's life, begging for relief. Drowning out everything and losing himself in their agony.

As Harry's face paled of all color and his legs gave out beneath him, Buffy felt the cold grip her from her place against the wall. Shuddering, she found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dark hood of the creature that sucked every good thing from her miserable life in one fell swoop. All that remained were the pain and the memories. _Look away. Oh Baby, please look away. - You now belong to the Centre. You belong to me. - Look away..._

But even as the memories threatened to overwhelm her, Buffy steadfastly locked them away, just as she did each night in the witching hours when they tried to consume her. Gasping, she tore her eyes away from the dementor and focused on Harry, perched on his knees just before the creature and lost to the world. "Is this.. is this supposed to happen?" she asked, trying and failing to steady her voice as she glanced at the two that stood beside her, both looking as pale and shaky as she felt.

"N-no... but.." Hermione began, her voice dying away as she groaned loudly. "But as Harry said, he hasn't faced a dementor since third year-"

"And a lot has happened since then," Ron finished for her, his eyes growing even wider as the dementor began advancing on their downed friend.

"Oh, I don't _think_ so," Buffy muttered as the thing extended one skeletal hand towards Harry. And then, before the others could stop her she was crossing the room in a few quick strides and dropping down into a defensive crouch before him. Which was when the thing shifted as a loud crack echoed in the room, a puff of smoke momentarily blinding them all. When the smoke disappeared, the sun was once more shining upon them and the warmth infused her skin - but all of that became background noise as she finally found out first hand what her worst fear was. And it turned out that it was neither the Master, Angelus, Acathla, the Mayor, nor even Lyle. It was worse.

Slowly straightening, Buffy examined the girl that stood before her - the face that she knew so well. After all, she stared at that face every day in the mirror - the tanned skin, the long blonde hair pulled back into a tight French braid, her black utilitarian clothes, and the rigidity of her posture. But worst of all - worse than seeing herself in the unfamiliar clothes - the worst part was the deadened look in her blank hazel eyes. As a heavy silence engulfed the room, Buffy knew that the others were just as transfixed as she was. But as the double crouched low in a familiar stance, Buffy found the spell broken as she mimicked herself. And then, before anyone realized what was happening, they were flying at each other in a flurry of moves that were too quick for the mortal eye to follow. Parrying, ducking, kicking, swinging, jumping, arching, flipping, pounding - Buffy and the double fought with a ferocity that she usually reserved for the most vile and evilest of the creatures that she encountered, and each fist that got through her defenses was a blow to her very soul.

How long the fight lasted, none could say as the others remained transfixed by the fight that was more like a deadly dance. Buffy was fighting herself, and while that should have meant that both opponents were equal in strength and agility and that neither could win such a battle, it quickly became apparent that she was losing. Even though the double's every move was her own, Buffy was getting her ass kicked by herself for the sole reason that Buffy was human with human emotions to control her. Her double might as well of been dead and merely animated by the magic that surrounded her. But the truth was so much worse than magic, for in the height of the battle, Harry swore that he could see a spark of _something_ behind those deadened eyes.

Grunting as her double slammed her back against the wall and then followed with a quick jab to her midsection, Buffy felt something crack as her eyes lifted and locked on her own deadened gaze. This was what the others had seen when they had faced her back in Sunnydale. Those eyes were the last thing that Quentin Travers and his merry little band of Council members had seen before she had tore through them, limb by limb. This was almost the last thing that Giles had ever seen. This was Buffy at her most primal level, controlled by someone else and dealing out death like she was Death's minion. This was her.

With a strangled cry Buffy pushed her double back and then spun in a high kick that knocked the double back and to the floor. And then she was on her, her legs straddling her own midsection and her fists flying down and raining blows upon her own face, breaking skin and spilling her own crimson blood. Yet even as her own green eyes stared up at her, Buffy realized a hard truth. This wasn't just her worst fear for she didn't just fear herself. She hated herself. She hated this double before her more than she had ever hated anyone before - more than she had even hated the man that had stolen her mother from her. She understood now more than ever how Angel could possibly spend a century suffering guilt for crimes that he had never committed. Those crimes had been committed by Angelus, but they had been committed with his hands. His fangs. Likewise, her crimes, while arguably not her own, were more her crimes than anyone could dare to argue. She remembered the feeling of her hands landing blows upon innocent bodies and she remembered watching their pain. She was there for it all, just as Angel had been for Angelus' reign of terror. And with this realization her hold on the real world slipped as she became lost to everything but the girl that she mercilessly pummeled... as she pummeled herself.

Rooted in spot by horror, it took a strangled cry from Hermione as Buffy's hand paused from her crushing blows long enough to slide a knife from the small of her back for Harry to finally break free of the paralysis that had rooted them all. Even as the small Slayer lifted the knife and began arcing it down towards her double's chest Harry was already raising his wand, his mind shouting out the incantation and begging his mouth to follow suit. "_Riddikulus!_" he cried, his words causing the double to disappear in a flash of smoke and sending Buffy careening forward until she was poised on her hands and knees, the knife gripped so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were turning white. As his friends tried to move towards her, Harry quickly restrained them, his solemn eyes watching as her small body trembled, a curtain of blonde hiding her face as the steady drip of her own blood echoed in the thick silence.

The silence stretched from seconds into minutes, and still Harry refused to allow his friends to go near, even as his own body screamed at him to go to her. But with her hand still locked so tightly on the blade, he knew that to approach her would most likely mean death to any of them. Instead they had to wait for her to find control, and so wait they would. Finally, after what felt like hours Harry's sharp eyes watched as her breathing became steady and as her hand relaxed slightly. "Buffy?" he asked, his voice sounding sharp and loud as both Ron and Hermione jumped at the unexpected noise. "Are you-"

"I'm fine," she whispered, her voice haggard and rough as she slowly released her death grip on her knife, falling back on her knees. Shaking her head slightly, Buffy lifted a trembling hand and wiped it absently at the wetness she felt trailing from her nose, her hand coming away smeared with blood.

"You're hurt," Harry corrected as he made his way to her side, picking his path amongst the debris of smashed desks and overturned chairs. Frowning, he settled on his knees opposite the petite slayer and forced her chin to raise until he could meet her hazel eyes. What he saw in them caused his heartbeat to quicken - for even now she didn't seem to be with them. Sighing, he slowly lifted a hand and gently traced a finger over a long gash that oozed blood above her left eye, adding to the blood that streamed from her nose. "It may be broken," he murmured, her skin already beginning to bruise and swell.

"I think there's a broken rib or two as well," Buffy acknowledged, hissing between her teeth as her fingers probed her aching midsection.

"We should get you to the hospital wing," Hermione offered, her voice tentative as she knelt beside the two.

"No - no hospitals," Buffy quickly argued, her voice cracking as she turned pleading eyes to Harry.

"Well I can go get-"

"No Giles, either," Buffy cut in, her eyes never leaving Harry's. "I just need to get back to my room. We have a kit there," she murmured, her eyes drifting as she lifted one hand to grip the edge of a desk beside her. Hissing, she struggled to pull herself up, nearly falling as both Ron and Harry hurried to her side, one going under either arm and helping her to her feet.

"Hermione, make sure no one is coming," Harry ordered, his dark eyes meeting hers only briefly before she nodded curtly and hurried ahead of them. And together, he and Ron helped Buffy on the slow trek back to her and Giles' shared rooms.

"So your worst fear is yourself," Ron murmured, noticing the way that Buffy stiffened at his side.

"That wasn't me," she returned, her voice a soft whisper. "That was the Slayer."


	20. Chapter 20

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 20  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Shortly before being knocked unconscious and bound to a chair, before being injected with an unknown substance against his will, and before discovering that the world was _deeply_ mysterious in ways he'd never before imagined, Dylan O'Conner left his motel room and walked across the highway to a brightly lighted fast-food franchise to buy cheeseburgers, French fries, pocket pies with apple filling, and a vanilla milkshake."**  
-Dean Koontz-

With the sun beating down upon her bowed head, Buffy couldn't help but wonder about Giles' earlier insistence that the weather in his mother country was all rain, gloom, and cold darkness. In the past two months there had been the occasional shower, and she could hardly forget the cold upon her arrival all of those weeks ago, but if anything, it seemed as though she had brought the sunshine with her from her native California. Even now with the days ticking down until June, the warm weather was beginning to feel reminiscent of the weather that she had left behind in the beginning of April. And while she caught some of the others griping about the unnatural warmth and a series of complaints from Hermione about global warming, Buffy was perfectly content in the warmth for it was as though she had just another little bit of home along with her.

Home. It was amusing to think that after wanting nothing more than to leave the Hellmouth and everything that it stood for, for so many years... it was strange to think of how much she missed it at times. Well no, that wasn't really right. She didn't miss the danger, the bloodshed, and the nightly patrols through the cemeteries accompanied with the occasional apocalypse. She had enough of all of the above at Hogwarts to never miss that. What she _did_ miss was the Scoobies that made Sunnydale home. She missed Willow. She missed Xander. She missed Oz. And oddly enough, she missed Faith.

Smiling wryly, Buffy shook her head at that. From their letters, it seemed as though they were getting along well on the Hellmouth without her. Willow talked about her classes at the UC of Sunnydale, a girl named Tara that she met at a campus Wiccan group who Willow swore was the 'real thing,' and of course she talked about Oz. Xander talked about the odd jobs that he drifted between as well as the love/hate relationship that he shared with Faith - a relationship that seemed to frustrate him as he bemoaned his constant attraction for her with the fierce desire to wring her neck. And Faith... Faith didn't write.

Buffy realized that the thought didn't surprise her, for as Faith liked to point out, she just wasn't that kind of girl - not huggie-feelie, and certainly not a let-me-sit-down-and-write-my-life-story, kind of girl. She simply didn't have the patience. On the other hand, Faith's new watcher, Elizabeth, wrote to Giles weekly and through her letters Buffy learned about her sister slayer. She knew that Faith was kicking demon ass on the Hellmouth and she had learned through those long, and somewhat tedious letters that the army boys that had flitted around Sunnydale's shadows were really known as the Initiative. Apparently, one of the commando boys, a guy named Riley Finn, was a grad student and an assistant in one of Willow's classes - and even better, the head lady was a professor. However, the group only found out about all of this when the army boy broke protocol and came to Willow for help. He had recognized her as one of the civilians that fought the dark stuff that they fought, and when he learned that his head lady was using the demons they didn't kill to build a monster - well, he knew that it wasn't something right nor was it something that they could handle on their own. So, he came to the Scoobies for help, and according to Faith's watcher, the Scoobies were in hard core research mode to find a way to stop the monster, known as Adam, that had gotten out of control. Scratch it up to Faith's first Big Bad - an ass that Buffy knew Faith was going to kick all the way to the Hell that spawned it... or maybe that was a laboratory. Yeah, she still wasn't quite clear on all of the details.

"Okay, you're doing that odd smile thing again."

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Buffy flashed Harry a brilliant smile as she pushed a wave of long, golden blonde hair over the shoulder of her black tank. "What odd smile thing? I thought smiling was good!" she countered as she interlocked her fingers with his, her hip bumping against his leg.

"It is good," Harry agreed, stumbling slightly before squeezing her hand as his green eyes took in the beautiful, sunny afternoon - the kind of afternoon that Buffy loved and always managed to drag him outside for. "It's just odd when you start grinning like a mad woman for no apparent reason," he added, a small dimple forming in one cheek as he quickly pulled away to avoid Buffy's playful slap.

"Mad woman?" she asked, pulling to a stop and crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. "Please don't tell me that's the best you can come up with? To think that after all this time you would have begun picking up some American English so that you can lay in with the good insults. Mad woman?" she repeated, shaking her head slowly and admitting defeat.

"At least I didn't call you a wanker or a pillock," he defended easily, the sun catching the edge of his black-rimmed glasses as he continued across the vast sea of green, his eyes locked on Hagrid's hut just a short distance away.

Wrinkling her nose, Buffy looked towards the blue heavens and beseeched them silently for assistance. She had been surrounded by stuffy British people for two months now and she just _knew_ that Xander would have been amused. Buffy's eyes trailed over Harry's form as he continued on without her. His black robes abandoned back in the castle, Harry was wearing his usual school uniform of dark pants and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his tie having disappeared months ago. Smiling appreciatively, she didn't know why she hadn't noticed it the first time they had met, but just the sight of his lean frame, broad shoulders, narrow-

"Bad Buffy, bad!" she admonished, her words causing Harry to turn and throw her that odd, quirked grin of his. Shrugging slightly, Buffy grinned back impishly and finished the distance between them, linking her arm with his and propelling them both towards the back of Hagrid's little cottage. "Anybody home?" she called out, eyes dancing as she took in the small pen that sat behind the cottage, Berry stirring at the sound of her voice.

"Is it tha' time already?" Hagrid asked by way of greeting as he lumbered from the open door of his home and stretched in the warm sunshine, his eyes narrowing even further by the onslaught of the bright light.

"You know it!" Buffy chirped as she skipped over to the edge of the pen, waiting for Hagrid's nod before she vaulted over the fence and waited patiently for Harry to follow her over. It had been a long process that had taken much time and patience on everyone's part, but as Harry kept pointing out, the only way for Buffy to ever get over her past was to face it. And so she had. Day by day she had fallen into a comfortable routine whereby she would make the daily trek to Hagrid's hut with the others after their classes, just in time to offer the recovering bloodred bugbear its nightly dinner. At first she had contented herself to watching the others as they clambered around the massive, disturbingly colored creature and followed Hagrid's lead to earn the bear's trust - always back and from a safe distance, her muscles tensed and waiting for disaster to strike. But when that disaster never came, Buffy found herself relaxing day by day and inexorably moving closer to the pen, when, before long, she soon found herself in the pen with the bugbear itself, never left unaccompanied but undeniably within the creature's grasp. And as of only yesterday, Buffy had begun feeding the bugbear herself.

"Where are Ron and 'ermione off to today?" Hagrid asked, scratching his grizzled chin through his wiry beard as he bent to retrieve Berry's plate of food.

"Hermione is speaking with Professor McGonagall about the upcoming exams," Harry offered as Buffy accepted the dish and began her slow, tentative steps towards the bugbear. "She and Ron said that they'd catch up with us," he added, tensing slightly as Berry shifted and first sniffed at Buffy's outstretched hand before sniffing towards her proffered plate of dismembered rooster.

"Aye, tis gettin' about tha' time, isn't it?" the half-giant returned, his eyes once more searching out the bright sun. "Summer is almost upon us now," he added, his tone strangely muted as he turned back towards the pen, watching as Harry moved to join Buffy beside the large animal. "Almost upon us," he repeated absently before turning back to his darkened cottage. "Aye'll be righ' back," he called out, shaking his head as the two teens spared him the briefest of nods before returning their attention back to the large bugbear, and more importantly each other. Rolling his eyes, Hagrid lumbered forward and disappeared into the cottage.

"So you have some exams coming up?" Buffy asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"Yes, the NEWTs," Harry agreed, wrinkling his brow at the thought. "The toughest exams of all, and in order to get any sort of a good job in whatever you want to do, it's imperative to get high markings on the exams."

"Oh, well that sucks," she offered, shrugging slightly as she very pointedly forced her next question away. She knew it was a touchy subject with Harry. Then again, it wasn't as though she could blame him. She had never enjoyed the inevitable question that adults always asked when they were ignorant of her destiny.

What _do_ you want to do when you grow up?

Live.

That's all that she ever wanted now. Just to live to see another day.

Shoving her thoughts to the side, Buffy turned her attention back to Berry. "How ya comin' Big Guy?" she asked, her voice soft just as Hagrid had schooled her. The large, blood-red bugbear had long-finished its afternoon meal and was instead sitting strangely quiet, its head dipped down low. Confused, Buffy crouched down and tried to get a look at the bugbear's face. She'd never seen him act this way before. "Hey Harry, do you think-" she began, her voice cutting off as Berry suddenly lurched to his feet and swung around, its massive, shaggy paw sailing over her head and connecting with Harry's chest hard enough that she was sure that she heard something crack, the teen flying back from the force of the blow and landing in an unmoving heap on the ground beside the opposite fence.

Frozen in shock, Buffy couldn't move fast enough as the bugbear's wide flank shouldered past her, pain flaring along her side as she was thrown to the side and tumbled to the hard ground, her head smacking against the dirt as she rolled away. Gasping, Buffy felt the gritty taste of dirt against her lips, mixing with blood as a strange buzzing filled her ears. Everything was happening far too quickly for her brain to process and Buffy found herself floundering. Grimacing, her body protested against the smallest of movements as she forced herself to her feet, pushing the pain away and turning to see that in those few brief seconds, the bugbear had crossed the distance to Harry. Numb, she could only watch with wide eyes as Berry lifted himself to his full height, his white teeth flashing in the afternoon sun. He was going to kill him. Berry was going to kill Harry and it was that realization that finally broke her from her paralysis.

"Leave him alone!" she cried, dismayed by the way her voice cracked in the command as she threw herself at the bugbear's back, slender fingers wrapping themselves in coarse red hair. Whimpering, Buffy tried to banish the whisperings of her past and of a similar struggle against a similar beast that was so much larger than her - a beast that wanted nothing more than to rip her to shreds. Only this time it was different. This time it was Berry and this time it was going after Harry.

"Leave... him... alone!" she grunted as she used all of her strength to wrestle and twist the bugbear away from Harry's unmoving form, forcing him back against the far fence before twisting away and darting back a few steps so that she was now standing between them. Gasping, her green eyes strayed from her opponent for the briefest of seconds as her eyes darted over her shoulder to quickly sweep over Harry - a glance that caused her blood to run cold as she saw that already his once pristine white shirt was now soaked in red fluid, his skin pale in the bright light. It didn't take a mediwitch to see that he was hurt - badly hurt.

Feeling tears burn her eyes, Buffy turned and focused on the creature that towered before her - the form so familiar from a muggle world, but the coloring all wrong. She knew that only seconds had passed since the attack had begun, but Buffy felt as though time had frozen. She would never let anything hurt Harry, but that didn't mean that she could ever force herself to lift her hand against that same creature to help herself, for in Berry's eyes she saw the eyes of the bear that she had killed before to save her life. An innocent life that was being used for another's means. And suddenly, as the bugbear's eyes locked with hers and its mouth lifted in a ferocious smile, Buffy knew that somehow... somehow Berry knew that she wouldn't hurt it. She couldn't hurt it. Not after what had happened in the Centre. She couldn't do that again. And as Berry leered at her, Buffy knew that he knew - he knew and it would be the death of her.

Mind clouded and hazed as the voices of the past began to call out to her, Buffy could do nothing but stare in dumb horror as Berry dove towards her, his large mouth closing on her shoulder and neck. And as the bear's sharp teeth tore into her skin and clamped around muscles and bone, Buffy felt her world explode in a fiery blaze of pain that radiated throughout her body. Yet even as her agonized scream tore through the tranquil afternoon and echoed over the Hogwarts' grounds, she somehow managed to wrap her small hands around the bugbear's muzzle and pried its jaws free of her body. Gasping, Buffy's blood streamed down her body in deep red rivulets as she lifted her spotted vision to the bugbear's face, eyes locking with his. "Who are you?" she whispered before the his heavy paw slammed into her body, claws ripping through skin and sending her flying back until her body collided with the back wall of Hagrid's hut, just as the half-giant tore through the doorway beside her.

Alerted by the terrified scream, Hagrid froze in the doorway, his eyes locked on the small slayer's bleeding and unmoving form on the ground beside him before turning to lock on Berry, now poised over Harry, also unmoving and covered in blood. "'arry!" he roared, panic filling his veins with ice as he ran forward, the earth trembling beneath his heavy footfalls as he dove at the bugbear's back. "No, Berry, _no!_" he commanded, his voice hoarse as he struggled to pull the animal away from the downed teen - from the boy that he had loved ever since he was a baby. But it was a battle that Hagrid knew that he was destined to lose for the bugbear was just too strong - too powerful for even a half-giant to pull him away. Which was when his salvation came in the form of one terrified word.

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione cried, her steps stilling on the other side of the cabin long enough to freeze the bugbear with her spell, her wide eyes trying and failing to make sense of the horrible scene that faced her and Ron. And then the two teens were running, the blood pumping through their veins as they toppled over the pen's fence and froze at the sight of Hagrid crouching over Harry's still form, his white shirt in tatters and heavy with blood. "H-Hagrid, what happened?" she stammered, already feeling the tears begin to burn her eyes as the shaking groundskeeper gently reached out as though to touch the ugly wounds before quickly coming back to himself.

"Ron, see ta th' lass," Hagrid ordered, nodding towards the open door to his hut as he gently scooped Harry into his arms, the boy's head lolling against his massive chest.

Confused, Ron turned and followed Hagrid's eyes until he saw Buffy's small form. "Oh no," he whispered, feeling his legs threaten to give way beneath him as he stumbled the distance to the petite slayer's side. If he had thought that Harry had looked bad, his friend had nothing on the girl that lay before him in a quickly growing pool of her own blood. "Hagrid, I-"

"I can't carry both of 'em!" the half-giant called out, his voice rough as he began making his way towards the castle.

Swallowing the thick bile that rose in his throat at the sight of so much blood, Ron quickly bent over and gathered the small girl into his arms. "Hermione, find Sirius and Giles," he called out as he hurried to catch up to the giant, thankful now for Buffy's petite stature. "And hurry!"

* * *

Side by side the two men raced through the dark halls of Hogwarts, Hermione struggling to keep pace with them. It had taken her far too long to locate either Sirius or Giles, but whatever time had been wasted in searching for them was quickly being made up in their frantic dash through the school's stone corridors. She had been pale and shaking as she skid into the school's library, her eyes puffy and red. But all the poor girl had managed to get out was the fact that both Harry and Buffy had been hurt somehow and were being brought to the infirmary - for that was all that needed to be said. Instantly both men were off and tearing through the halls, unmindful of the scene they were causing in their haste to reach their wards' sides. And throughout the frantic run, the same thought kept running in Giles' mind: he hadn't made things right. His own guilt from his past actions had alienated his Slayer to the point where he no longer knew how to make things right... and now something had happened to her and what if he never had that chance?

Robes flapping around his lean frame, Sirius took the lead in the last second and dove through the open doorway of the school infirmary with Giles trailing after a few moments later - and the scene that met their eyes nearly drove them both to their knees. There was blood - blood everywhere as Madam Pomfrey rushed back and forth between two hospital beds, her eyes frantically raising to meet those of the two men that stumbled into her rooms. "I-I can't heal her. She won't respond. I can't heal her," she mumbled, fear pinching her features as Giles rushed to his slayer's side.

Following Giles' cue, Sirius turned to the other bed as both Ron and Hagrid stepped back to allow him access, both their clothing stained with the red fluid that drenched the white linens that his godson rest upon. "Harry, is he-"

"I'm fine, Sirius," Harry whispered, bloodshot green eyes blinking open as he weakly lifted his hand and slipped it in his godfather's, taking strength from his warm grip.

"Madam Pomfrey gave him a potion - said he should be fully healed in a little bit," Ron explained quickly, forcing a reassuring smile for his friend. But Harry wasn't looking at Ron and instead had his head turned to the side, his green eyes locking on the figures that crowded around the bed beside his.

"Mr. Giles, she hasn't responded to any of my potions or spells," the mediwitch fretted as Giles' skilled hands explored the series of cuts that traversed Buffy's chest and stomach.

"She won't," he murmured, his tone distracted as he bypassed those wounds, relatively minor, and instead focused his attention on her bloody shoulder. "Buffy's immune to our magics," he added, idly realizing that perhaps that would have been a pertinent bit of information to share with the mediwitch prior to this. Pushing that thought away, he reached for a clean rag that drifted in a nearby bowl of water and gently washed the blood away, hissing at what seemed to be puncture and crush wounds that extended all the way to the bone in some places. "This looks like a bite wound," he whispered, his brow tightening in confusion before his thoughts were scattered by Buffy's soft groan.

"Giles?" she murmured, pain-glazed green eyes blinking open and locking on her watcher's face.

"Shh, you're alright," he murmured before snapping his eyes to the mediwitch who looked so out of her element that it would have been comical under any other circumstance. She had probably never encountered a malady that couldn't at least be diagnosed or healed with her magic or her magical supplies. It was a good thing that Giles was well-versed in muggle first aid, for his skills had seen he and his Slayer through many a similar situation - far too many. "Poppy, I need gauze and bandages," he ordered, giving the frantic witch a task to occupy her hands.

"Giles, no hospital," Buffy murmured, her eyes desperately seeking his out. "No hospital," she repeated as she lifted a blood soaked hand and wrapped it firmly around his wrist, marking him with her blood as she fought a wave of darkness.

"No, no hospitals," Giles agreed, smiling softly at the girl as he gently but firmly pried her hand loose and quickly set to work bandaging the terrible wounds. While obviously very bloody and painful, she had endured far, far worse, and already the cuts were beginning to close and the blood flow slowing. She would be tender and sore for a few days, probably weak from blood loss, but by the end of the week he judged that his slayer would be as good as new. Something that he knew Buffy was aware of as she sighed in relief at his words, her body sagging slightly on the soft mattress. "What happened?" he asked, his attention drifting away from his slayer for but a moment as he looked about the room. In his mind, his real question was what kind of demon had attacked his slayer in broad daylight and on the grounds of Hogwarts itself - what had _bit_ his slayer?

"They were jus' feedin' th' bugbear," Hagrid mumbled, answering for everyone as his small eyes remained locked on Buffy's still form. "I 'ad just gone in fer a second - jus' a second," he added, obviously still in shock as his hands began to twist the hem of his coat, his movements jerky and unsure.

"Ron and I were supposed to meet them at the pen," Hermione offered when the silence became unbearable. "We saw the bugbear attacking," she added, knowing that the memory would be one that would haunt her dreams for many a night. The blood staining the grass...

And then, as if his emotions finally found focus, Sirius quickly wheeled around and rose to his full height before Hagrid - meaning, of course, that he now stood close to Hagrid's shoulder - and allowed his pent-up anxiety to fall free in a wave of blinding anger. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his tone so soft and even that it caused the hairs on Hagrid's head to raise. "What in Merlin's name would possess you to keep a dangerous creature within reach of the children?"

"But Berry wasn' dangerous!" Hagrid protested weakly, feeling the tears brim in his eyes as he instinctively knew to what end his beloved bugbear would now come to. It felt like Buckbeak all over again.

"It wasn't Berry's fault."

Surprised, everyone turned to look back to the diminutive slayer who seemed to be finally and fully alert as Giles helped her to sit, leaning her back against a mound of pillows. "At least... I don't think it was his fault," she amended, a small frown pulling at her lips as her wan green eyes lifted to those in the room. More specifically, her eyes lifted until they could lock on the knowing eyes of her watcher. In that moment, it was as if the last month of tension had never been. "Giles, when it attacked Harry and I it... it _smiled_ at me," she whispered, her voice cracking as she shuddered at the memory. "But bears don't smile - not even bugbears, do they? Do they?" she repeated, her eyes turning away until they could lock on Hagrid's face, now frowning in puzzlement.

But before Hagrid could answer, Sirius was already shaking his head, his eyes meeting briefly with the watcher's. "Voldemort," he muttered, the name causing most everyone to flinch as his haunted eyes returned to the two children that had been attacked within the school's grounds. "He must have somehow placed the bear under the imperious curse," he added, noting the way that the small slayer shuddered at his words.

"But how did he know?" she whispered, her voice so soft yet carrying to everyone in the room. Biting her lip, Buffy's eyes drifted down to her crimson-stained hands before slowly turning her eyes to Harry's. "Why something that looked like a bear? Out of everything to use against us, why a bear?" she repeated, her confusion and uncertainty welling within her until she began to tremble slightly. "I-I couldn't fight it," she stammered, hating the way that the tears burned at the corners of her eyes. "Not again," she murmured, shaking her head as one tear broke free and streaked down her pale cheek. "But how could he have possibly known that?" she asked again, her voice becoming hard and cold as she turned her eyes to Harry. "You're the only one that I ever told about that time - ever," she added, watching as Harry's face mirrored her confusion.

"There is much that Lord Voldemort knows about you, Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer," a new voice added - a cold, deep timbre from the doorway before their beds. "And more that he's learning every day."

Confused, Buffy turned towards the door and watched as a tall man dressed in tattered black robes shuffled forward before leaning heavily against the frame. His black hair was lank and clung to the dark whiskers on his cheeks and chin while his pale face looked gaunt, dark shadows lining his eyes. "And who the-"

"Professor Snape!" Hermione interrupted, her surprised cry quickly echoed by the others as the man tumbled forward and fell to the ground, his dark robes flaring around him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 21  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Everyone knows they're going to die... but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently."**  
-Morrie Schwartz-

With fluid motions the school's mediwitch flitted around the large infirmary, scouring through her cupboards and filling her arms with bottles upon bottles of potions and salves and depositing them on the small table beside the potions professor. Clucking quietly to herself over the condition of her newest patient, she waved her wand with a flourish and began uncorking various remedies, forcing them past the man's resisting lips - her work all set to a thick silence that was filled with the occasional snicker from the teens that had gathered beside the young slayer's bed. Even though such distractions were small, Poppy Pomfrey would have long since forced the children, as well as Sirius Black, Rubeus Hagrid and Rupert Giles to leave the room, were it not for the prompt arrival of Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Lupin, proving that there was very little that transpired in the school without the headmaster's knowledge.

As another snicker was released from one of the teens - most likely the Weasley boy, seeing as how Master Potter was much too occupied with assuring himself that the small slayer would be alright, and Miss Granger was far too sensible - Poppy's patient began to resist her treatments even more, a fierce scowl aimed first in her direction before turning towards the group that gathered beside the slayer.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for Weasley being an insufferable prat," Snape growled, his eyes glaring daggers at the two boys that always strove to make his life a living hell, "and an additional twenty for the havoc I'm sure that Potter has wreaked in my absence," he added, his frown tightening as instead of looking miffed, the boys' grins only heightened.

"Professor Snape, would you kindly refrain from scowling at the children long enough for me to finish my work?" Poppy broke in, her tone clipped as she sent her own glare to the group gathered nearby, her eyes narrowing slightly as she realized that it had been Sirius Black who had been snickering, and not the children. "And Mr. Black, if you don't contain yourself then I shall be forced to remove you from this room along with your godson and his friends," she added, her tone harsh as she turned back with yet another bottle of healing potion. "Now hold still, Professor Snape," she ordered as she lifted her wand to begin another round of diagnostics.

"Madam Pomfrey," Snape cut in, his usually soft and silkily cold voice now rough and hoarse from the many different potions that had burned down his throat, "if you do not immediately desist in your annoyingly persistent meddling, then I will be forced to do something rash," he warned, his glare settling on the indignant mediwitch as she huffed at his words.

Lips settling into an even tighter line, Pomfrey found herself straightening her shoulders, her glare icy. While she had no problems restoring Harry Potter to his usual health, the inability to treat the girl had left the mediwitch at a loss. She had never before been faced with an injury that she couldn't treat, and the sight of Mister Giles, of all people, working to stop the bleeding and wrapping his ward's wounds in a foreign, muggle way did nothing to alleviate her feelings of helplessness. When Snape had come traipsing in the room looking as though he had to battle half of You-Know-Who's death eaters to make it there, she had felt as though she had been given a chance to redeem herself. Foolish really, for how could she have forgotten what a difficult patient the Potions Master had always been? "You will take these potions or I'll-"

"Poppy, let him be," Dumbledore stated quietly, interrupting her tirade and gently touching her elbow, drawing her away as she glared at all those that surrounded her before huffing and stalking back towards her office. Smiling ruefully at her departure, the aging headmaster moved forward and laid a gentle hand on the potion professor's shoulder. "It's good to have you back, Severus," he murmured, noting how Snape's glare dimmed for the briefest moment before returning to his normal, grouchy state. To anyone else, it would seem as though this was the last place that the man wanted to be - but to Dumbledore... Dumbledore could read the relief that was hidden in the man's dark eyes. "What news do you bring us?" he asked, getting straight to the heart of the matter. The headmaster was no fool. He realized that once the school had closed and Snape had become trapped within Voldemort's dark world, it would take far more risk to leave that world than to remain there - and only something truly grave would have driven the Potions Master back to Hogwarts.

Snape slowly shook off his anger and turned towards the headmaster, his expression turning even more grim. "It seems that Potter wasn't the only one who received a curse scar," he stated, his words causing a hush to fall over the room. "And apparently, the connection that they share works both ways," he continued, his eyes slipping past to watch as the Boy Wonder paled at his words, Sirius' hand landing on his godson's shoulder. "For the past few weeks Voldemort has used that connection to see things through Potter, just as Potter looks in on Voldemort. Therefore, what he wasn't able to learn about the slayer through a mole that he placed in the Council of Watchers, he has learned from the slayer herself whilst talking with Potter," he finished, his dark eyes turning past Potter and locking on the small blonde that had to be the slayer that he had heard so much about. She was tiny, pale, and looked so fragile - but then again, Severus, out of anyone, realized how much looks could be deceiving.

Buffy, meanwhile, felt the cold knot in her stomach slowly grow until it was like ice in her veins. The stuff that she had shared with Harry had taken a lot of courage for her to reveal and it was stuff that she hadn't spoken to anyone about - not even Giles. But she had shared that information with Harry, and now, unknowingly it seemed that they had always had a third party in those private conversations. The Dark Lord himself. And that knowledge was quickly turning that ice into a fiery anger - an anger that wasn't helped by the fact that she was hurting, weaker than she'd care to admit, with no chance of sleep and without even a couple of Tylenol to take the bite away. Plus, it didn't exactly help her morale any to see Harry moving about the room with ease, looking as though he hadn't just been mauled in a vicious blood-sucking bugbear attack a short while before. Stupid, freaking slayer powers that wouldn't let their magic make her go poof all better. Scowling, she lifted one hand and began scratching at the heavy white gauze that layered her healing shoulder and chest, only to have her hand swatted away by her watcher who had yet to move from her bed-ridden side. Sparing a brief glare that only matched Giles' own, Buffy shook her head and turned her attention back to the gaunt-looking man that had just effectively dropped a bombshell and cast the room into silence. Well, Buffy never really could stand such oppressive silence - especially when her anger was this blinding.

"Okay, that's it!" she fumed, making a few people jump with her sudden outburst. Green eyes narrowed, Buffy let her senses fly free, straining to see if she could sense the Dark Lord's presence - only to find that there were just too many powerful and magical people already in the room for her to tell for sure. Not that something like that had ever stopped her before. "Listen up, Moldy Wart," she continued, her voice icy. "If you're listening in right now, then listen to this: your _stupid_ parlor tricks aren't going to work anymore and they're _not_ going to drive me away!" she called out, head swiveling this way and that, eyes searching for something that she couldn't see. "There's _nothing_ you can do to make me leave this fight. You can threaten me all you want because it doesn't matter - threats against my life have never worked before and it won't work now. In fact, it just pisses me off even more! Big old spooky Dark Lord or not, you're getting your ass kicked one way or the other, whether you like it or not."

For a moment more the room sat in silence as everyone stared at the tiny little slayer with more than a little amusement and awe for her angry words. Amused himself by the child's spunk, Snape watched as the stranger beside the girl's bed rolled his eyes dramatically before breaking into a harsh lecture, all of which she seemed to dutifully ignore. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the headmaster whose eyes twinkled brighter than ever. "I came as soon as I was able," he murmured, already berating himself for not being quicker and being unable to prevent the evident attack on both Potter and the slayer - an unsuccessful attack. It seemed as though Voldemort would need to try hard indeed to shake this new opponent.

"And this time you won't be able to go back," Dumbledore returned, reading his old pupil so easily.

"Not any more," Snape confirmed, his shame at his failure warring with an indescribable feeling of relief at his words. Working as Dumbledore's spy was his way to redeem his past actions as a death eater - to help atone for all of the evil that he had committed in his wayward youth. But to finally be free of the darkness and to be a part of the light once more... it was a soothing balm to his aching soul.

"Peace, Severus," the headmaster returned, his voice soft as his blue eyes met eyes that were nearly black. "I am just gratified to have you back with us once more, my friend."

"Can you tell us anymore about Voldemort's plans?" Remus asked, tuning out Giles' lecture long enough to turn back to the potions master.

"No," Snape returned, his voice dark and bitter. "Ever since the Dark Lord realized that Potter could see what he saw, he's refused to speak of his plans to anyone. Not even those amongst his inner-most circles know what he plots," he finished, sighing softly as he watched the werewolf's shoulders sag beneath his words. Shaking his head, he turned until his dark eyes were locked on Potter's. "Do you still have the potion that I prepared for you before I left?"

Harry didn't even have to ask for clarification to know of what Snape was asking. There was only one potion that the professor had ever made for him, and it was the one potion that he had promised himself that he would never use, no matter how bad the pain from his curse scar became. Even if the pain spelled his death, he had always refused to take the easy route, knowing that he could be gathering useful information for Dumbledore - information that their side needed. After years of being protected, of people doing so much to keep his miserable life safe, Harry couldn't sit back any longer. He had to help, and at the time, this had seemed the only way possible. "Yes," he replied, his tone cautious and dreading what he knew would come next.

"Then perhaps it is time for Harry to begin taking it," Dumbledore sighed, a small frown pulling at his lips, spelling the words that Harry had known would eventually come.

For the briefest of moments, Harry thought to argue against this decision - to point out that it was his decision to make. How could they possibly take away the one way that he was able to fight back against Voldemort? Not directly of course, but by providing valuable intelligence he _was_ helping their side. He was _doing_ something. But it only took one look at Buffy's small frame, huddled on the hospital bed before him to be reminded in the worst possible of ways of how much he was helping their side. Furious with himself and at his fate, Harry turned away from the others without a word, shrugging off Sirius' hand and storming from the room.

It was all his fault. All his fault that Buffy had been hurt, that they had been attacked, that Voldemort even knew who Buffy was. Snape hadn't said it directly, but Harry knew it was what everyone was thinking. Somehow, he should have _known_! It didn't matter if even Dumbledore himself hadn't thought of this, all that mattered was that Harry should have somehow known that Voldemort was there, spying on him and those he loved. He should have felt his presence or something. It didn't matter that Buffy herself, with her slayer senses couldn't even sense Voldemort. Harry was the one connected to him and he _should have known_.

"Harry, wait up!"

Oblivious to the world around him, Harry strode forward, his robes whipping around his lean frame as his angry thoughts whirled through his troubled mind. It took someone pulling at his elbow and swinging him around for him to finally realize that Ron had been chasing after him, calling after him all of this time. And before his friend could say a word, Harry quickly cut in, his voice angry and his green eyes snapping with self-hatred. "Instead of making things better, I've been making things worse! Instead of helping our side, I've been helping Voldemort all along! I should have known better! I haven't gotten a thing from him in the last few months, not a thing! I should have-"

"Harry," Ron interrupted, his voice soft as he gently rested a hand on Harry's shaking shoulder, "you couldn't have known that Voldemort was using the connection backwards. Dumbledore didn't even know."

Sighing, Harry felt his anger crumble beneath a heavy wall of despair. Turning, he sagged back against the cold stone wall, sliding down until he was hunched on the floor. "Does that matter?" he asked, his green eyes beseeching his friend for the answers to his question - answers that he knew Ron couldn't give. "We were almost killed today - Buffy was almost killed today because Voldemort used her secrets against her. Her secrets that she had only shared with me. I feel like I betrayed her."

"But you didn't."

Harry turned his head and locked eyes with Buffy as she slowly and painfully made her way to the two friends. He knew that she shouldn't be out of bed - not as weak as she was after the severe blood loss that she suffered. Then again, he also knew that there was no way that Giles could have kept her in the infirmary if she wanted to go. He wasn't even surprised that she had found them, for if there was one thing about Buffy, it was that she had a knack for finding those who didn't want to be found - especially him.

Buffy slowly moved to Harry's side and allowed Ron to help her slide down the wall until she was seated beside him, both resting side by side with their gazes locking on the blank wall of stone that stood opposite of them. Ron slid down the wall on the other side of Harry, helping her to flank their friend on either side and quietly offering him his support as only as a friend could. His support and his comfort. "Harry, you didn't betray me anymore than you made Berry go all 'when-good-pets-go-bad' on us," she said, her lips lifting in a wry smile. "Don't try to take credit for Moldy Wart's bad guy routine."

"But I hurt you," he murmured, his voice soft.

"Moldy Wart hurt me," Buffy corrected gently. "And don't worry, 'cause trust me when I say that I'm going to hurt him back soon enough."

"But now they're going to take my visions away," Harry returned, refusing to smile at her light words. His heart was far too heavy for that. "If they do that, then I truly am helpless. I don't want people to risk themselves to protect me anymore. I want to protect them, and I can't protect anyone while trapped in here."

Sighing softly, Buffy slowly shifted until she was leaning lightly against his side, her head falling down until it was pillowed against his arm. "I learned long ago that you can't protect everyone," she murmured, her voice soft as she thought back to all of the people that she herself had failed to protect. There were many to think of over her short years as Buffy and her long years as the Slayer - too many, and too many of them still hurt to think back on. "You can't ever protect _everyone_ and instead you have to focus on those that you _can_ protect. They're the ones to work on - everything else doesn't matter. Just those you can save."

Closing his eyes, Harry allowed her words to flow over him as he gently searched out her hand with his own, comforted by her warmth against one side and Ron's gentle nudges on the other. "Just those I can save," he murmured, parroting her words and focusing on them until all of his past failures dissipated. "Those I can save..."

* * *

In a castle as old as Hogwarts, small drafts inevitably worked their way through cracks in the stone surface, fighting their way inside so that they could buffet against the warm flame of a candle - flickering the lights in a way that comforted - a way that muggle electricity could never quite mimic. Too bad that sometimes, not even the familiarity of what he had once lost and now reveled in wasn't quite enough to battle his demons.

The inner battle that had raged within him from the moment that he heard of Buffy's injury had spanned hours. Many hours. Now, with the bright moonlight illuminating their shared common room, Giles found his eyes wandering to Buffy's closed bedroom door for the hundredth time that hour, if not that minute, and he found himself warring with himself once more. It all came down to the question of whether he should stay or whether he should go - a phrase that inevitably reminded him of an old song that some bizarre American group remade into a parody of a squirrel debating on whether to cross a busy highway or not - should he stay or should he go - the end result being the squirrel's death by a speeding car. In the squirrel's case, he should have stayed, but in the watcher's...

Seeing as how Poppy could find no magical means to force Buffy to remain in the school's infirmary, especially since there was nothing the mediwitch could do for her injuries anyway, Buffy had been released hours before with strict orders to forgo patrol for a few nights and remain in her room under lock and key for some much-needed rest. If Giles was lucky, he figured that he'd be able to keep her in bed until tomorrow morning at the latest. But no patrol tomorrow? Highly unlikely. As it was, it was a struggle to convince her that the Forbidden Forest could last one night without her sword. So to bed she went - reluctantly - and he hadn't seen her since. And even though her glance had told him that the past was forgotten, Giles couldn't let it rest. Not yet. Which brought him back to the inevitable question: dare he stay or dare he go?

Rolling his eyes as the annoying American tune played once more in his mind, Giles quickly pushed back from his desk and moved towards the kettle of fresh tea that he had kept nice and hot over the roaring flame. He dared to go, for if not, he was quite sure that the bloody song would drive him insane. Grimacing at the thought, he poured a fresh cup of tea and moved towards the closed door, his excuse in hand. Pausing only long enough to knock, Giles pushed open the heavy wood door and poked his head around the side of the frame, his eyes easily finding his small slayer, propped against a mountain of pillows and her small frame buried beneath the sky blue comforter, a heavy book perched in her lap. "May I come in?" he asked, realizing how inanely British he sounded at that moment, the epitome of formal as his slayer tilted her chin to the side in a manner that was so familiar it clenched at his heart.

"Giles, I slept on your couch for three months - I think that thereby excuses you from asking for permission to come in," she responded dryly as she waved him in, curiosity shining in the depths of her eyes.

Smiling timidly, Giles slowly made his way into the room, the steaming cup of tea in one hand. "I-I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Just the wonderful world of the Dark Arts," Buffy returned, smiling wryly as she flashed the cover of the book that he had given her months ago. "Which really equates to no, no interruption whatsoever," she added as Giles debated leaving her with the book that must have been written by an illiterate fool. Didn't they have editors in Giles' mother country? If so, either they were getting paid too little or too much because they certainly weren't doing their job. Who spells color or flavor with an 'ou' anyway? "Pop a squat and tell me what's up," she instructed, patting the bedcovers beside her.

"Yes, well," Giles began, gingerly taking the proffered seat. But as the silence thickened, the watcher knew that he would have to start sometime - he just never realized how difficult it was going to be, and Buffy certainly didn't seem willing to help him out. Or perhaps she was truly clueless as to his reason for being there. Perhaps his slayer forgave and forgot far easier than him. "I brought you tea," he quickly stated, remembering the steaming cup in his hand and thrusting it into Buffy's.

Frowning, Buffy accepted the cup, her eyes dipping down to take in the brown, watery depths before looking at her watcher once more. "Gee, you shouldn't have," she deadpanned, wondering what on Earth had her watcher so flustered. It wasn't like she was mortally wounded or anything - she'd experienced far worse in her time as a slayer - and there didn't seem to be any new big bad on the horizon. You couldn't get much bigger or badder than old Moldy Wart himself. Which left only... "Everything's alright in Sunnydale, right?" she asked, her eyes boring into his as all of the old fears were awakened within her. If Xander or Willow-

"S-Sunnydale?" Giles returned, obviously confused by her question. "Well yes, I'd imagine so," he continued, wondering where this had come from. "Elizabeth's last letter did state the the threat of this creature, Adam, was increasing, but she had complete confidence that the group would find a way to defeat it. She had mentioned something about a spell that Willow had found... and where _did_ this come from?" he asked, his green eyes turning to his slayer.

"Well you were all nervous and twitchy," Buffy explained, unable to deny the relief that swept through her body as she sagged back against her pillows. One of her biggest fears was that something would happen to everyone that she loved back home - that something would come up that Faith was unable to handle for some reason - something that could have been prevented if only she had been there with her friends. If anything ever happened to any of them while she was away... Buffy doubted that she'd be able to hang on to the sanity that she was only now regaining, thanks to the amazing patience of one Harry Potter. "I figured you had some bad news or something for me - trying to decide how to break it to my fragile self," she added, her tone self-depreciating as she waved to her battered form.

Deciding that there couldn't possibly come a better opening, Giles cleared his throat loudly as his eyes skipped away. "Well, yes, about that," he murmured, forcing a deep breath before turning back towards his slayer. "There is something that I wanted to discuss - about these past few-"

"Hey, no big," Buffy broke in, flashing him a small smile as she reached out and found his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm just glad to have my watcher back on speaking terms with me - although why it took a bugbear attack is anyone's guess," she added, wrinkling her nose slightly and forcing her body not to react to the memory that would probably visit her dreams that night.

"No, it is a... well, a big," Giles argued, stumbling over his words as he frowned down at their joined hands. "I owe you an explanation - and an apology."

"You, of all people, don't need to apologize," Buffy murmured, her brow tightening in confusion. "After all, _I_ was the one who spiked _your_ drink - although I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe," she added, her chin jutting out stubbornly.

"And while that's a matter that I've resigned myself to never resolving," Giles cut in, a wry smile lifting his lips before settling back into a small frown, "that isn't to what I was referring."

Now even more confused, Buffy searched for something her watcher could have done to warrant such odd behavior. Okay, so yeah, he didn't know how to kiss and make up, but she hadn't exactly been all warm, fuzzy, let's shake hands either. And so he could be kind of grumpy and did refuse to allow her to patrol on her own, but that was hardly apologizing material - which left the petite slayer quite baffled. "This isn't about the crucia-whatever test thing, is it?" she asked, seizing a hold of the only truly bad thing her watcher ever did. "Because if so, Giles, let it go!" she continued, squeezing his hand as she chuckled softly. "That was over a year ago, and I told you even then that you were forgiven. You don't have to-"

"Buffy, there's something I need to tell you," Giles interrupted, his voice soft as he scooted even closer to his slayer, his eyes begging her for silence to allow him to continue. "That night in Sunnydale when you were able to break free of Lyle's control," he began, watching as she flinched at his words, her face paling as, for the first time, he was forcing her if not to talk about the experience, then at least listen to something about a time that she wanted nothing more than to forget. "Lyle told me something that you deserve to-"

"Giles, whatever it is, I don't want to know," Buffy cut in, feeling her body begin to tremble as she tried to pull away, hating how the tears came to her eyes at the mere mention of the monster's name. "It's over, it's done with, and I-"

"The drug that they used on you while you were in the Centre was the cruciamentum drug." There, he said it - he said the thing that had been driving him to avoid his slayer for so long. His betrayal of her hadn't been as small as either of them had at first thought, for his first ever betrayal of his slayer led to this hell that she had endured.

"What?" Buffy murmured, her thoughts silenced by his words as she tried to grasp what he was telling her.

"Buffy, Lyle told me that after we met Jarod that first time, he had kept all of us under surveillance-"

_"Weve been watching you, Elizabeth Ann Summers," Lyle murmured, his voice low and seductive as he took a few steps back, his annoying grin replaced by a thoughtful expression that was somehow even more chilling. "And Ive done my research... I had a team sent down to keep an eye out, and in no time my men began giving reports of monsters that had fangs and drank people's blood. I saw surveillance tapes of demons that viciously attacked this small California town... and of the small girl that somehow managed to fight them all..."_

"He - he said that they were trying to learn everything they could about me," she murmured, her voice soft as she recalled his first taunting words to her.

Nodding, Giles gently squeezed her hand before continuing. "Apparently the Centre overheard you and Willow talking about the cruciamentum. They broke into my apartment and stole the remainder of the drug from me - I never even realized that it had been taken until Lyle told me about it," he admitted, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "They broke apart the drug's compound and then synthesized it - made it more potent as your body adapted to it," he explained, his voice faltering as Buffy's eyes turned away from his, looking at nothing at all. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice cracking as his head dipped down.

"For what?"

Confused, Giles slowly lifted his face and found Buffy's puzzled eyes. "F-for the drug," he stammered. "If I hadn't first betrayed you for the Council, they never would have been able to get their hands on the drug. They wouldn't have been able to take you and maybe-"

"Giles," she began, breaking into his tirade with a small smile. "None of this is your fault anymore it is mine and Willow's for being overheard in the first place," she stated simply, her voice holding no sign of the accusation that he had been expecting. Instead, all that he heard in her voice was acceptance - acceptance of a twist of fate that none of them could have foreseen nor prevented.

What had come, had come, and there was nothing that any of them could do to take it all back, no matter how much any of them wanted to. And in that moment Giles realized something that he should have realized long ago - something that he _had_ understood at one point, but had forgotten when fate had chosen to take his slayer away from him in a manner that he had never prepared himself for. He had forgotten that this was her destiny. Some part of Giles had always known the end that his slayer would eventually find - the end that all slayers found. He had been trained for that moment - the time when she wouldn't return from patrol or when an apocalypse stole her life. But in the moment when a few cruel men took her away from him without a trace, Giles had forgotten about her destiny. And in the moment when she was returned to him, brutalized and a shell of her former self, he had vowed to never let her go again. Yet with Buffy's small smile, Giles realized how impossible that task was. For Buffy was the Slayer. The Chosen One. She had been chosen by Fate, Destiny, the Powers That Be or whoever did the pickings. She had been Chosen as the one girl who would stand between this world and darkness and conquer it until it conquered her and another was called to take her place. It was her duty, and as Buffy smiled at him, he realized that this was not the same girl that had argued against destiny three long years ago.

_"Giles, I'm sixteen years old. I don't wanna die!"_

Buffy had grown and matured far beyond her years - perhaps even beyond his years. She understood her destiny, and more importantly, she accepted it. Buffy would fight for this world that she lived in until she breathed her last breath, and then she would die knowing that she had done her best. Buffy would die, sooner rather than later, and she knew this. And she accepted it. And if Buffy could accept her fate, then the least that Giles could do was honor his brave slayer by doing the same.

"I understand," he murmured, and by the way that his expression softened as the lines around his eyes deepened, he knew that his slayer understood the undertones beneath that small word. He did understand now, for perhaps the first time in quite a long time. He understood her duty, and now he understood his as well. "Just remember that I will always be at your side for this," he added as his heart ached at the knowledge of what eventually would come.

"I know that you'll be there for me as much as you can," Buffy amended, squeezing his hand gently. "But sometimes... sometimes you won't be able to. You just have to remember that you trained me well and that I know what I have to do."

"As do I," he returned. _Eventually, I will have to let you go._ Sighing, Giles shared a bittersweet smile with his young slayer before pulling her close in a hug that would have been painful for anyone else. The move was completely uncharacteristic for him, but he found that he didn't care. Sometimes, you just had to push all of the dressings to the side, for one never knew when such simple pleasures would be taken away forevermore.


	22. Chapter 22

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 22  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"... though lovers be lost, love shall not and death shall have no dominion."**  
-Anonymous-

_BANG!_

"Oh dear," Dumbledore sighed as yet another cushion exploded in a cloud of feathers, liberally spraying his office in wisps of white - and only adding to the mess that already dotted the wooden floor. Shaking his head, his crinkled blue eyes settled on the student that sat before him, his face growing red as the sound of a girl's soft muffled laughter echoed in the room.

"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-"

Shaking his head once more, the aging headmaster cut off Harry's stumbled apology as he lifted his wand and fixed the two cushions with a flick of his wand, andn then sent a piercing glare in Buffy's direction, instantly quieting the girl as she tried to cover her laughter behind a few forced coughs. And as Harry glared at his friend, Dumbledore had to hold back his own soft chuckles. If their actions weren't so important to the wizarding world, their success too pertinent to the survival of so many, it would indeed have been an amusing sight. Unfortunately, their actions _were_ important, and failures such as these were not to be laughed at.

As a very unladylike snort followed by the slayer's smothered mirth drifted towards them from her corner, Dumbledore realized the futility of his own thoughts. For the past two months he, Harry and Buffy had met for a few hours each night, starting first with mastering the art of concentration before beginning with the drawing of inner power and changing that into the art of wandless magic. Usually, wandless magic, the most difficult form of magic, was something that took years to perfect and master - decades even. Yet in the span of just a few weeks, young Harry Potter had been able to fly through even the most difficult of spells - spells that were all completed with neither words nor the insulation of his wand. The boy had great power, without doubt - a power of which Harry was now only beginning to understand the depth and magnitude. With that power he was able to make even the most difficult of tasks seem effortless. The only difference between a simple spell and a more treacherous one was the amount of magic that it required. When you were young, such as Harry, and had such vast amounts of untapped, raw power, even the most demanding of spells would barely wind the boy, draining him little. However, even that power fell short when the lad's concentration was lacking - something that occurred all too often.

Dumbledore slowly shook his head as he lowered his aching bones into a nearby chair, his chin resting on one hand. By the time that one reached an age such as his, concentration and focusing one's mind was something that came easily after decades of time and experience. However, in one so young as Harry - it was the most difficult aspect of wandless magic. No one would ever claim that the younger generation was without focus, but in a mind so young, distractions were too easy to find and the concentration that was needed for such powerful magic was sorely lacking. In the case of Harry, the headmaster was only too well aware of one source of constant distraction for the boy - a distraction by the name of Buffy Summers. Then again, he hadn't been able to defeat Grindewald nor become Headmaster of the most prestigious wizarding school in England by being daft. Even if he were to send the slayer from the room during the sessions, he would be doing his student more of a disfavor than in serving him right. For while the boy's attention and concentration would definitely increase, Harry would still be at a loss in an actual battle. Dumbledore seriously doubted in the likelihood that Lord Voldemort would simply stand still and wait for Harry to gather his wandering thoughts before dueling. Instead, Harry needed to learn to harness his power and focus in the face of distraction - even if that distraction came in the form of a small slayer whose own power caused the air around her to crackle with energy.

Shaking away the thought, Dumbledore returned his attention to the young man that sat before him, looking so disappointed in himself that it was almost comical. Dinner had ended hours ago and while the rest of his friends and classmates were no doubt buried in texts, studying for the impending NEWTs, Harry had begged off, as always, in order to devote his free time to these sessions. Sessions that were getting them no where this night - a thought that sent cold chills racing along his spine. Harry needed that concentration or else he would fail, and in turn, they would all fail.

"I'm rather thinking that we should try a different approach tonight," Dumbledore finally stated, his voice grave as his blue eyes turned until they locked on the small blonde who sat in the corner of his office, a large book lying unopened in her lap and the dying sun's rays casting her in a bloody light from his stained glass windows. For the past two months he had been directing Harry to force his concentration on idle objects - to focus on the mundane while his attention tried to draw him to what his mind considered more pertinent matters. Perhaps that was a backwards approach to the issue. When in a fight against the Dark Lord, the things that would occupy his mind the most would be the fight that he was engaging upon. In that regard, perhaps the best way to show Harry how to use his power was to have him focus on that which drew his attention most. "Miss Summers, if you would please join us?"

Obviously confused, Buffy's smirk faded just as quickly as it had come as she reluctantly stood from her chair, placing her heavy book on the seat behind her. Turning, she glared once at Harry for somehow getting her in trouble before moving towards the two chairs, watching as both Harry and Dumbledore stood at her approach. At least Harry's expression mirrored her own confusion as he raised a hand to run it through his unruly black hair. But as she drew beside them both, Dumbledore was already moving off to the side, his soft hands gripping her bare shoulders and turning her until she was standing face to face with Harry, his green eyes looking down at her curiously before turning to the headmaster.

"Professor?" he asked, his voice showing his confusion as his eyes drifted over to the headmaster who was eyeing the two with a critical gaze.

Harry had grown in his years at Hogwarts, tall and slender, just as his father had been in his youth. The white shirt sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled up to reveal his tanned, toned arms from years of quidditch playing with his chin falling just above the top of Buffy's golden head. The slayer, slender and brown from hours in the sun, wore a pair of tan colored pants that hugged her hips before falling loosely around her legs for ease of movement, while her snug black tank left her arms free and unencumbered, with her long blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun that left wisps of hair to frame her face. Together, the two made a striking couple. But what not many were able to see or feel was the energy that crackled from them both when alone - and that intensified when together - almost blending in harmony. A fact that puzzled the headmaster, seeing as how different their magicks were.

Frowning softly, Dumbledore slowly stepped back and then leaned against the edge of his desk, his wizened blue eyes never straying from the two teens. "Harry, I will release you from your lesson early tonight on one condition," he stated, his voice causing both heads to turn in his direction. "I would like for you to focus on that which has drawn your attention all night," he began, waving towards the girl that stood opposite him and enjoying the way that both flushed at his words, "and perform some sort of corresponding wandless magic."

"Professor?"

"Do whatever your heart desires most," he expanded, eyes twinkling as Harry looked at him quizzically.

Rolling his eyes at the headmaster's knowing smile, Harry turned his attention back to the girl that stood before him, his eyes drifting down until they rested upon her face. As Buffy lifted her chin, a small, playful smile pulling at her lips, Harry's eyes met her own. The headmaster was right, as always, for Buffy _had_ been the matter that had been weighing most on his mind. In the past few months his feelings for her had grown until she felt like an extended part of himself - almost like he had been missing something for his entire life. They were rarely apart and when they were, he found his mind constantly occupied with thoughts of her... of her smile, of her eyes, and of her heart. He never had to guard his words around her for there was nothing that he felt he couldn't share with her.

"Surprise me," Dumbledore added, forcing Harry's mind back on track once again.

Do something with his magic, whatever his heart wanted most. Smiling softly, Harry knew instantly what he wanted most, but it was something that his magic couldn't do. It was something that he had never tried before, and as he focused his thoughts around the simple request, he could feel Hogwarts' barriers and magical wards pushing away his efforts. He didn't need Hermione to recite from Hogwarts: A History to remind him that such actions were impossible in the castle - impossible for wizarding magic.

Puzzled by that realization, Harry's frown pulled at his features as he looked down into Buffy's green eyes. Even now he could feel her power rolling off of her in waves. The power of the slayer. Everyone knew that slayers were magical creatures, and Buffy herself had talked about the strong magic that made up the core of her being - the magic of the slayer that enabled her to move so fast, fight so well, and heal so quickly. But that magic was different than wizarding magic - a difference that allowed her to ignore their wizarding laws and have their magic pass powerlessly over her form. The magical rules that governed Hogwarts most likely didn't fall to her - couldn't fall to her except in the most elemental of ways.

Tentatively, Harry reached out with a part of himself that he wasn't consciously aware of, feeling himself mix with the magic that was so foreign that he couldn't describe it. And as Buffy's eyes widened at the touch of him - of what made up his magic - Harry knew that she felt it to. Buffy's magic couldn't be harnessed and controlled like wizarding magic - and it didn't seem that she could draw upon it to change the world around her, as wizards and witches could... but Harry could feel it at the tips of his invisible fingers. He could feel that if the knowledge was there, perhaps her magic _could_ be harnessed. But it wasn't something that a wizard, no matter how powerful, could do on his own. Instead, he needed the slayer's help and more importantly, her permission. Harry knew all of this without knowing how. It was as though he sensed it on the most primal, basic level, and as his eyes met hers, Harry knew that she understood his unasked question.

In an act that quelled so many of Harry's fears about her, he felt Buffy open herself to him in a way that went beyond the sharing of one's inner-most thoughts. For Buffy allowed him into her core and the immense, raw power that he felt there nearly caused him to stagger back and away from the small slip of a girl. As it was, Harry felt sweat bead on his forehead as his jaw clenched, his eyes locked with hers as he forced his will around the power that emanated from her form. And then, as he grasped onto just the smallest portion of that power and drew it into himself, Harry Potter did the possible.

He apparated.

Even more importantly. _They_ apparated.

Surprised, Dumbledore remained where he was standing for a few moments in the dead silence of his office, his eyes rooted to the place where so much had transpired that he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. "Well, now.. that was certainly unexpected," he murmured, blinking slowly before slowly shrugging and moving towards his desk. He had a school and a resistance to run, after all.

* * *

With a loud pop Buffy stumbled before strong hands reached out and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her on her wobbly feet. Blinking, the small slayer focused on Harry standing before her, and then turned to take in the fact that instead of the headmaster's office, the couple now stood in the middle of an unfamiliar circular room with three large beds surrounding them. "Okay... what just happened?" Buffy asked, eyes drifting until they were locked with Harry's, smiling when faced with his obvious elation despite the sudden weakness she felt.

"Buffy, we just apparated!" he cried, his voice echoing in the bedchamber as he dumbly shook his head.

"But... how?" she murmured, more confused then ever. "I... I thought that you couldn't apparate."

"I can't," Harry returned, grinning stupidly as he impulsively pulled her close in a quick, fierce hug before pulling back once more. "You're not supposed to apparate without a license, and I can't get my license until I graduate. And besides, no one can apparate in Hogwarts because of the magical barriers in place. And you definitely can't apparate you because our magic doesn't work on you," he babbled, his words falling short only when Buffy silenced him with a finger against his lips.

"Then how did we just apparate?" she asked, feeling like she should know but too confused to put the pieces together.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, unable to force the grin from his face. "I just knew that I didn't want to be in his office anymore, and that I wanted us here," he said, gesturing to the room around them, "but that I couldn't make us go. But then I felt your magic and it was so different, but you let me in somehow and let me take some of it and then we-"

"Apparated," Buffy sighed, finishing his sentence for him as everything began to make sense. She had sensed his request without actually knowing what he was asking. It had been so weird because she had felt Harry more than ever, felt him at the edges of _her_ and while she didn't know what he was doing, she felt his unspoken request. And even though she hadn't known what he wanted, she knew that she could trust Harry and in that moment, something had fallen and then she had felt him inside of her, taking something of her... and evidently bringing them here. It explained the weakness, even though Harry didn't seem to understand what that had meant for her when he took that something. However, it did _not_ explain everything. Like for instance... "Where's here?" she asked, pulling away to take in the room in which they were standing, decorated in the red and yellows of the Gryffindor common room.

"Oh," Harry mumbled, finally coming back to himself as he, too, glanced around. "This is the 7th year dorms," he said, waving his hand distractedly.

"The 7th year - oh," Buffy said, her voice dying as her mouth lifted in a slow, sly smile. "So... let me get this straight," she said, her voice turning coy as she turned back to Harry and stepped close so that they were mimicking their position of only minutes earlier - only this time, it was just that much different as Buffy tilted her head back and lifted her eyes to his. "Old Dumbledore told you to do 'whatever your heart desired most' and since you didn't want to be there... you went poof and brought us to your bedroom?" she asked, arching a fine brow at him as his face began to turn red in a way that she absolutely adored.

"Not exactly how I was going to put it," he returned, a wry smile lifting his lips as he gently lifted one hand and used it to cup her chin, his other wrapping around her small waist. "Apparating here was just a means to get what my heart desired most," he continued as Buffy's eyes fluttered closed as his head tilted down, his lips pressing softly against hers. Sighing against her lips, Harry belatedly realized that this was his first kiss - and that it was so much better than he ever could have imagined it. Yet even as this thought flitted through his mind, the rest of him was registering the fact that Buffy now had her arms snaked around his shoulders, her fingers curling through his hair and pulling his mouth closer to hers, her lips parting and her small tongue darting into his mouth. Heaven. Harry Potter was officially in-

"Wait," Buffy murmured, interrupting Harry's dazed musings as she quickly pulled away, her arms wrapping reflexively around her middle as her eyes drifted to the stone floor.

"Nhuh - what?" Harry asked, shaking his head slightly to clear it and turning his confused eyes to the small girl that had quite effectively stolen his heart. The one that he had been kissing quite madly until she had pulled away in seeming protest. As that realization stole in, Harry felt his pounding heart slowly still until his sorrowful eyes locked on her downcast face. While it was true that it _had_ been his first kiss, Harry was pretty sure that Buffy was returning it just as much as he was giving it - which begged the question of what went wrong. "Buffy?" he asked, his voice betraying his insecurities as he clumsily took a step back, his insides twisting as he felt his heart breaking. "I - I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, about to turn away when Buffy quickly lifted her head, her green eyes glimmering with unshed tears as she quickly shook her head.

"Don't. Don't apologize," she whispered as she crossed the distance to him, gently taking his hand in her own. "I just... I.." she murmured, trying and failing to find words to explain the fear that had claimed her. At first the kiss had been beautiful and wonderful and everything that she had been secretly hoping for, for so long... but then unwittingly her thoughts had turned quite quickly and sharply back to the man that she had vowed to love for eternity. To the vampire with a soul that had left her over a year ago, never to be heard from again. "You see... I... Angel was," she began, fumbling for words as Harry's worries faded into confusion.

"Buffy, I-"

Stilling his words with a well placed finger against the lips she had just been kissing, Buffy quickly shook her head, silently asking him for a moment to collect her thoughts. She cast her eyes to the ground before lifting them once again. "I know that this is probably the worst time ever to mention it," she began, smiling ruefully at her words, "but I was in a pretty serious relationship for a long time and this... this is the first time that I've done anything at all with a guy since then," she admitted.

"I'm sorry," Harry quickly whispered, even as a cold feeling began to spread from his heart to encompass his entire body. "I didn't mean to... I thought that..."

"And you thought right," Buffy interrupted, smiling gently as she reached up to direct his own chin until she was meeting his eyes once more. "Harry, I've been wanting to do that for... well, probably since I first laid eyes on you," she admitted, watching as a timid smile lifted his lips. "Angel and I... well, he left over a year ago," she said, trying to shrug the admission away even as she knew the pain was still reflected in her eyes.

"Did... did you love him?" he asked, trying to understand the pain that he saw even though he knew her answer would hurt.

"With my heart and soul," Buffy murmured, knowing it was true even as Harry tried to turn away, Buffy refusing to allow him. "But it wasn't meant to be, and we both knew that," she added, forcing him to stay with her - something that was quite easy, what with her slayer strength. "We had more than our fair share of bumps in the road and in the end, they were too much," she admitted, and as Harry looked at her in confusion, she flashed him a wry smile. "Short version of the long story? I cost him his soul and then sent him to hell to save the world," she deadpanned, her expression the most serious that he had probably ever seen it.

Which was exactly why Harry was so speechless. His first instinct was to laugh at her words, sure that she had intended them as some sort of a joke... but from the expression on her face, he had a sinking feeling that she meant every one of them. He then had to settle for the most intelligent response he could muster that would capture the entirety of his confusion and still manage to ask for more information. "Huh?"

Smiling, Buffy lifted Harry's arms and wrapped them around her so that they were standing face to face... or rather, her face to his chest, but when she tilted her head back and he arched his forward, their foreheads could touch and it was almost like they were in their own world. "Angel is a vampire who was cursed with a soul by a gypsy tribe over a hundred years ago," she murmured. "His demon is known by Angelus and was considered the scourge of Europe - but when his soul was returned to him, Angel was forced to remember every horrible deed his demon had done. For a long time he suffered for Angelus' sins until a balance demon sent Angel to me when I first came to the Hellmouth, when I was only fifteen. He was just supposed to help me in my fight against the nasties, but we fell in love," she admitted, her voice soft as she tightened her arms around his neck, her eyes never leaving his.

"We weren't supposed to, but we did... and it ended up costing us," she admitted, the tears coming to her eyes unbidden. "What we didn't know was that there was a clause to Angel's curse - that if he was able to experience even a moment of perfect happiness, he would lose his soul again. And I... I gave it to him," she murmured, forcing herself not to look away.

"Angelus returned and made our lives hell for months, but no matter what he did, I couldn't bring myself to kill him. Not yet. But by the end... he killed a friend of ours, he tortured Giles and he tried to end the world. I defeated Angelus and saved the world, but it wasn't Angelus that I sent to hell that morning. It was Angel," she admitted, her voice growing even softer as Harry lifted a hand and brushed at the tears that trailed unnoticed down her cheeks.

"I ran away after that and was gone for months, and when I came back Angel was somehow returned to us. But things couldn't be the same between us - not when we knew that I had the power to take his soul away and endanger us all again," she admitted, a self-depreciating smile lifting her lips. "And in the end, Angel did what I couldn't... he left."

_"I've been thinking... about our future. And the more I do, the more I feel like us - you and me - being together is unfair to you... You deserve more. You deserve something outside of demons and darkness. You should be with someone who can take you into the light. Someone who can make love to you."_

_"I don't care about that..."_

_"Before you know it, you'll want it all. A normal life."_

_"I'll never have a normal life."_

_"Right. You'll always be the Slayer. But that's all the more reason why you should have a real relationship instead of this - this freak show... Buffy, you know how much I love you. It kills me to say this... I'm trying to do what's right here. I'm trying to think with my head instead of my heart."_

_"Heart? You have a heart? It isn't even beating."_

_"Don't."_

_"Don't what? Don't love you? I'm sorry. You know what? I didn't know that I got a choice in that. I'm never gonna change. I can't change. I want my life to be with you."_

_"I don't."_

_"You don't want to be with me? I can't believe you're breaking up with me. How am I supposed to stay away from you?"_

_"I'm leaving. After the Ascension. After it's finished with the Mayor and Faith. If we survive, I'll go."_

Pulling away from the painful memories, Buffy focused her teary gaze on Harry's beautiful green eyes. "And although it hurt so much at the time... even then I knew that he was right."

_"So, that's it?"_

_"That's it. Assuming we survive this Ascension thing, he's gonna leave town."_

_"Well, he's a fool. He's just a big, dumb, jerk person, if you ask me..."_

_"Will, it's okay. You don't have to make him the bad guy."_

_"But, that's the best friend's job. Vilifying and grousing."_

_"Usually, yeah. But he's right. I think that maybe in the long run, he's right."_

_"Yeah. I think he is. I mean, I tried to hope for the best, but... I'm sorry. Must be horrible."_

_"I think horrible is still coming. Right now, it's worse. Right now, I'm just trying to keep from dying."_

"He wanted me to find someone that could take me into the light," she whispered, smiling fondly now at the memories that had plagued her and kept her company during so many dark hours in the Centre. "And I have," she murmured, slowly pulling away and looking at him with as much love as she could possibly muster. And from his soft smile, she saw that it was enough. "And what about you? Have you run any old girlfriends through with a sword and then sent them to hell?" she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently at him.

"There haven't been any old girlfriends to take such drastic measures against," Harry admitted, blushing slightly under Buffy's scrutinizing gaze.

"Well, it certainly can't be for lack of trying on their part," Buffy stated, her tone firm as she grinned impishly at him.

Rolling his eyes at her words, Harry looked down before meeting her emerald gaze once more. "Well, I really did like this girl a few years back," he admitted, a soft rose coloring his cheeks before being dimmed with memories. "Her name was Cho Chang and she was a year ahead of me - the seeker for the Ravenclaw quidditch team - but she liked someone else," he added, his expression going dark. _Kill the spare!_ "That someone was killed by Voldemort because of me at the end of my fourth year," he continued softly, "and I couldn't look at her after that. I couldn't let myself look at anyone like that ever again," he admitted, speaking the words behind his actions aloud for the first time. "It's bad enough being so close to Ron and Hermione, but I know that if I let anyone else in, it's only going to get them killed in the end."

Sighing softly, Buffy did the only thing she could as she pressed herself against Harry's chest, her arms snaking up to wrap around his neck and hold onto him as he had held onto her so many times over the past few months. Sometimes, a simple embrace was worth more than a thousand words - a lesson that he had taught her well in their weeks together. And even though Harry's words were sad to hear, she understood them too well. Those same thoughts had often run through her own head when her own friends came into danger because of her. It was a risk that her loved ones faced just by knowing her. It was a risk that her mother had paid the ultimate price for. "Maybe we're cursed," she murmured, her warm breath fanning against his neck.

Feeling himself shiver at her breath's soft caress, Harry drew back and met her beautiful eyes once more. "Or maybe we were just meant to wait until we found someone who was used to the risk and attracted the danger just as much," he murmured, his voice growing deep as he found his eyes wandering down to her pink lips.

"Or maybe that's just a really bad line," Buffy retorted, smiling despite herself as Harry's eyes met hers.

"Does it matter?" he returned, smiling softly before their lips met. And this time, neither pulled away.


	23. Chapter 23

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 23  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Death is my gift. It's what I breathe; it's what I live; it's what I cause; it's what I cheat.  
I am full of love and love causes pain. Pain is what I live off of - it's what feeds me.  
Pain makes me stronger - makes the weak realize they're weak and makes the strong even stronger.  
To defeat evil, I have to know what evil thinks, the way it kills, and what it feeds off of.  
Nothing happens after I attack because I never stop attacking.  
Everyone has a Death wish sometimes they just don't realize it.  
Revenge is nothing but danger because once you attack and drive them down,  
They just come back stronger then before.  
Death is my gift. Life is my curse."**  
-adapted from basketball-slayer-

With practiced ease she moved around the mat, her punches never faltering and her aim always true. Someone had once described it as a dance - the most primal and basic of dances and one that she was born for. This dance was the one thing that she did better than anyone else in the world - better than... well, maybe Buffy could still kick her ass, but that certainly wasn't a fact that Faith was ever going to willingly admit.

"So, how goes the book quest?" the dark-haired slayer called out as she landed a well-placed kick on the bag that swung on its metal chain before her. Grunting, she ducked out of the way of the bag's back swing and then launched out with a back-handed punch that nearly broke the chain it was swinging from. Grinning, Faith paused for a moment and wiped the sweat from her brow, her brown eyes skipping across the training half of the basement and finding the contingent of Scoobies that were scattered around the large table in the booky-side of the large room.

"Oh, you know - tedious," Xander returned without looking up, yawning loudly as he turned another page.

"Yet a process that is done with the precision of perfect concentration."

Rolling his eyes, Xander finally looked up long enough to glare at the woman that sat opposite of him, her short honeyed hair pushed back from her forehead and a look of intense disapproval on her face. "Yeah, what she said," he added, earning a small chuckle and a snort from Willow and Oz.

It was a glorious Saturday in June, just after the noon hour and Xander could think of many things that he'd rather be doing. It had been a long few weeks filled with a lot of stress and even more uncertainty as the Scoobies had faced off against a demon that was more man-made - albeit with demon parts - than supernatural. The group had only managed to defeat it the night before, and that was only done with a super-powerful spell that Willow and her new Wicca-friend, Tara, had cast that had somehow combined Willow, Elizabeth, and him into Faith's body - giving her the power necessary to defeat Adam. Xander had desperately hoped that the end of the Initiative meant that they could relax, if even for a little while, but last night had been anything but pleasant as the primal first slayer gave them all a nice little visit - and oh, you know - tried to kill them. Thus earning the group a Saturday filled with books and research. "Stuffy British slave drivers," Xander grumbled beneath his breath, but just loud enough to earn himself a pointed glare from the watcher who sat opposite of him.

It had taken the group a while to warm up to the new watcher, an Elizabeth Hamsley out of London, England - a.k.a. - yet another Brit. However, what didn't take long was the realization that Elizabeth Hamsley was nothing like the Giles that had been sent to them. Oh, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was a watcher - and a dang smart one, too - but not the kind of watcher that they had come to expect after both Giles and Wesley Windham-Pryce. For one thing, she was rather young - mid-thirties. For another, she wasn't as straight-laced as either of the previous watchers had been. If anything, her methods were probably considered quite unorthodox for a watcher. Not to mention the fact that she was a witch.

And so it was that within a matter of weeks of her arrival, Scooby central had been moved from any old graveyard to Elizabeth's decked out basement. Soon enough the group had fallen into a comfortable routine where Faith would fight the bad stuff and the others would help out where they could - an idea that Elizabeth had accepted with relative ease. And while Elizabeth would never be a Giles, she certainly did come with plenty of unique talents - plenty of unique _witchy_ talents. Through her the group finally had a glimpse of the wizarding world and began to learn a bit of what Buffy was most likely encountering. In addition, while two very separate and different types of magic, Elizabeth had also taken to instructing Willow and Tara in the art of magic - expanding their wiccan prowess in less time than it would have taken them through self-discovery. Even Xander had to admit that his best friend's natural wiccan abilities were quite impressive - especially when joined with Tara's.

"Xander," Elizabeth's clipped voice called out, cutting in on his daydreams and yanking him back to the present. "You haven't turned a page in the last five minutes. Does that mean that you've found something pertaining to the dreams?"

"Uh, still working on that," Xander returned, suitably abashed and turning his eyes back to the texts. "Although I doubt that this book will have anything on the cheese guy," he murmured, cocking his head to the side and trying to puzzle out that thought.

"Cheese guy," Oz echoed, lifting his eyes from his own dusty text and nodding slowly at the teen beside him. "Very big evil," he stated, his expression so serious that Xander couldn't decide if the bassist was humoring him or really being serious.

Rolling her eyes at the two, Willow stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, trying to work out the kinks that were plaguing her tired muscles. Her eyes drifted to Faith's slim form as the slayer ducked and weaved and altogether kicked the punching bag's bottom. It was at times like these that she really missed Buffy. The petite slayer, despite her many complaints, would always take a seat and sit through the endless research with the rest of them. Faith, on the other hand, had made it quite clear from the get-go that she didn't do that research stuff and that she'd stick to the fighting while she left the books to the brainy people. Xander, of course, had tried to use that as his excuse to get out of said book work, but all to no avail. "Well," the redheaded wiccan began, taking the guys' banter as the go-ahead to take a much needed break, "even though the army guys were helpful, I'm just glad that they're gone."

"Although I'm sure that we shall come to regret not having their presence here on the Hellmouth," Elizabeth countered, lifting her eyes from the text long enough to send a pointed glare at the three teens. "In addition, if it were not for Agent Finn and his realization that they needed our assistance when they lost-" she began, her voice dying as she stiffened in her chair, her eyes going wide.

"Yeah, if it weren't for them we wouldn't have even _had_ Adam to deal with," Xander retorted, oblivious to the watcher's distress - a distress that couldn't be ignored when the watcher suddenly shoved back from the table, her chair clattering noisily against the cement floor behind her.

"Someone has breached the wards," she murmured, her face going pale as she dove for her wand, her long fingers wrapping around the reassuring wooden shaft even as she began turning towards her slayer. "Faith-" was as far as she got before a series of loud cracks echoed in the room, its occupants stunned into silence as ten individuals draped head to toe in black robes suddenly appeared in their midst when seconds before there had been no one.

"What the-" Xander began, speaking for everyone as they quickly scrambled form their seats, freezing only when the intruders lifted their wands and pointed them around the room.

"Death Eaters," Elizabeth murmured, her voice echoing in the room and doing nothing to cover her evident disdain. "What business have you here?" she demanded, drawing the enemies' attention away from the children and towards herself.

"I'm sending a message."

Confused, Xander turned with his friends and watched with wide eyes as a demon strolled casually down the basement steps - a demon with pale, white skin, a flat, snake-like nose, and hideous red eyes that stared at each of them in turn before finally locking on the watcher. Following the creature's gaze, Xander felt a cold chill enter his blood as the color drained from Elizabeth's face, her hand holding her wand beginning to shake.

"Lord Voldemort," she whispered, the name catching in her throat and chilling her as his dark eyes turned towards her. The dark power that radiated from his form was so potent that she was sure even the muggle children beside her must have felt it... the children. Gasping, the watcher's eyes darted to the trio for the briefest of moments before turning her eyes to her slayer. She knew the moment that You-Know-Who arrived that her life was as good as forfeit, but if the children could only be given enough time... And as Faith's dark eyes met her own, she knew that her slayer understood. After all, it was her sacred duty, and one that she wouldn't forget - especially when her friends were in danger.

In one fluid movement Faith dove forward and tucked into a tight roll, effectively drawing the attention of the Death Eaters as numerous dangerous and deadly curses flew after her form - all too late for the speed of the slayer. And even as Faith was snatching a knife and sending it flying into the shoulder of a nearby Death Eater, Elizabeth was already turning back towards the children, her eyes locking with Xander's wide eyes. "Go! Get to Mr. Fellows - send word!" she hissed before quickly turning back and joining the fray, desperately calling upon her Hogwarts education and casting every spell that she could think of. She may have only been Faith's watcher for a few months, but Elizabeth had a slayer to protect and she would do so until her dying breath.

Heeding the watcher's words, Xander quickly grabbed Oz and shoved Willow back towards the bookcase that stood behind them. While it had seemed more than a little paranoid and slightly ridiculous at the time, Xander was grateful beyond words that Elizabeth had prepped them for a moment such as this - a moment that he had never thought would come. But the watcher had been insistent and had placed several normal objects around the house and around the houses of the Scoobies - all normal, everyday objects that she called portkeys, like the one that had taken Giles and Buffy to England. Only instead of bringing them to England, these portkeys were created to bring whoever reached them to a place in the middle of the woods that lay east of Sunnydale - a point from which the teens would be able to move to either safety or the nearest phone - whatever the situation warranted.

As Willow and Oz silently followed his lead, Xander thanked whatever had to be watching out for them - grateful that they were being ignored for the moment. It wasn't as though there was anything they could do to help, and apparently the attackers knew that. Forcing his grim thoughts away, Xander reached for a book that sat on the shelf at the same time as the others, pausing just long enough to cast his eyes once more to the fight that was taking place behind them. Faith was moving so fast around the room that the Death Eaters were having trouble landing a hit on her as she continued to take out their numbers in any non-lethal way that she could find. And Elizabeth seemed to be holding her own while-

As a single curse struck the witch, screams telling of an agony that Xander could only imagine ripped through the basement and echoed off of the cement walls. Staggering back against his friends, Xander watched as Elizabeth collapsed on the ground, her back arching and her muscles seizing as she continued to scream unabated, her eyes wide and nearly popping from her skull as madness seized her. Forcing his eyes away, Xander shouted to make his words heard over the watcher's screams and as one, the three teens seized the portkey and disappeared with a whoosh of displaced air.

Seeing this, Faith sprung in a high kick and then dodged another curse as her eyes slipped to her downed watcher. She had to stop this. She had to help-

"_Petrificus totalus!_"

This time Faith couldn't move fast enough and as the spell struck true, the slayer found her muscles and bones locking until she was lying completely immobile upon the floor, her eyes the only part that were free on a body that felt as though it was carved from stone. Wildly, brown eyes swept around the room and finally locked on the tall, snake-like creature that slowly made its way through its parted minions until it was standing above her, red eyes locking with her own.

"So this is a Slayer," Voldemort murmured, his voice so dark and cold that Faith would have shivered had she been able to. "Pitiful," he added as he lifted his wand, the girl's eyes following his every move. And then, with a feral grin he cast his power into the slim shaft of wood. "_Crucio!_" he ordered, his hissing voice flat as the magic encompassed the girl and overrode the prior spell, her muscles tightening and her back arching from the ground as another scream split the air. Smiling, Voldemort reveled in the twin screams of watcher and slayer that was a symphony to his ears - a beautiful symphony of unencumbered torture and agony. An agony that was unlike anything Faith had ever experienced before.

As pain coursed through her body, the slayer lost contact with any part of this world - losing the ability to focus on her surroundings or on fighting back or... or on anything. The only thing she was able to focus on was the pain, and she realized that it was driving her mad. It felt as though her nerves were frying while her body tried to pull apart around her, muscles tightening and ripping as the magic tore through her limbs. For a brief moment Faith was able to focus past the pain as she realized that this must have been what Buffy had felt when Lyle had used Jarod's drug on her for no other reason than to punish her. While they shared a body for a time, Faith had been privy to such memories - memories that she tried not to look back upon in order to keep her own sanity. Now she imagined that she knew what Buffy had felt. But soon, even that thought was lost as the agony blocked out everything else.

Faith had no idea how long the torture lasted - whether it was minutes or hours. When the fire finally did dissipate, awareness was slow to return. She heard her own ragged breathing as the air forced its way down her raw throat - raw from her screams. Her muscles continued to twitch and her body jerked in remembered pain, the nerves continuing to react as a deep ache settled in her bones.

It was agony - absolute agony and Faith didn't know why she wasn't dead yet. Why she was still sane. How anyone could stay sane when faced with such agony was beyond her comprehension. And then she felt the warmth that trailed from the corner of her mouth, whether it was from a severed tongue or something that the torture did to her on the inside, she didn't know - nor did she really care. All that mattered was the pain... and the silence.

While her and Elizabeth's screams still echoed in her ears, there was only a heavy silence now. Panting weakly, Faith forced her muscles to respond and folled her head to the side, her brown eyes sweeping past the hem of many dark robes until they landed on the glassy, unseeing brown eyes of her watcher.

Unseeing brown eyes.

Dead.

Elizabeth was dead.

As a coldness invaded her limbs to fight the heat that still burned through her system, Faith forced her aching body to roll over until she was lying on her stomach. And then, with her muscles screaming their protest she used her shaking arms to push her weight up and forced herself to her feet. Lifting her head slowly, the dark-haired slayer swayed as her eyes moved past the various Death Eaters that filled the room until they fell upon the monster that she knew was behind this senseless act. She didn't know these people - didn't know this creature. She had no fight with him and yet he had brought a fight into Elizabeth's home - into their sanctuary. And he had killed her watcher. Eyes narrowing, Faith turned her head to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood before raising her eyes defiantly to the monster that stood before her - her will alone keeping her standing.

"Remarkable," Voldemort murmured, watching as the girl continued to defy him even as her body trembled. Her limbs seemed ready to give out beneath her, and yet she refused to relent to the pain - refused to relent to his tortures. Eyes narrowing, Voldemort waved a pale hand dismissively at his followers and within seconds he was alone with the slayer. Moving forward, his black robes trailing around his gaunt figure, the Dark Lord finished the distance between them and then slowly lifted one pale hand. With a hideous smile he gently ran a cold finger down the side of the girl's face, both understanding that she was too weak to do anything but recoil away from his touch. She was finished and they both knew it. "Remarkable, but not enough," he said, dismissing her as he turned and strode across the basement, his robes trailing after his steps.

Then, just shy of the first step he paused and slowly turned, his red eyes locking with her brown. "_Avada kedavra_," he murmured, his words so casual as the green light flew from his wand and illuminated the girl's world for the smallest of moments before oblivion called her home, her body falling lifelessly to the ground. "And so it begins," he murmured as the front door crashed open in the house above.

* * *

Time passed and Buffy was vaguely aware of it. Actually, the only thing she was aware of was the feeling of Harry's lips on hers, his arms pulling her close, and most importantly, the heat that was radiating off of his body and warming her own. To say that Angel had been around the block would have been an understatement seeing as how he had around 230 years on her - but while Angel had passion, it had always been cold passion. This... this heat that burned from Harry's body and blazed in her own was a fiery passion that was altogether new to her - and something that she wondered how she ever could have done without.

As their tongues dueled one another in a dance that was older than time itself, Buffy felt their innocent kiss ignite into something more - months of camaraderie expand into something that neither had fully realized they were missing. Before Buffy knew it she was bent back and lying on a bed, Harry's lean frame bending over top as his arm supported most of his weight. She hadn't even realized they were moving and now couldn't be bothered with the details. The only thing that seemed to matter was Harry's lips pressed against hers and his hands-

"Harry? Have you-"

Unable to stop the shriek from escaping her lips, Buffy pushed Harry off of her so hard that he flew back and bounced on the bed beside the one they were on. Gasping, Buffy quickly sat up and felt her face go crimson as she locked eyes with one very red-faced Ron Weasley.

"Oi - ah... s-sorry about that," the teen quickly mumbled as Buffy frantically ran her fingers through her mussed hair, trying to put it back into place as Harry shot his friend a flustered glare.

"Thanks for knocking," he muttered crossly as he straightened his shirt, sending a scowl at his mate whose expression was turning indignant.

"Hey, how was I supposed to know that you and Buffy were thoroughly snogging each other _on my bed!_" he added, his eyes narrowing as Buffy bolted from the mattress as though burned, her eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. Ron was able to maintain his indignant glare for a full thirty seconds before he couldn't hold it any longer, his laughter making them both turn even more red as he fell against the door, holding his sides.

Sighing, Harry rolled his eyes at his friend's antics before turning to Buffy, smiling gently at her and taking her hand in his. "Payback for all the times I walked in on him and 'mione," he murmured, squeezing her hand gently as he pulled her away from the beds. "And if you're quite finished-"

"Not nearly! Wait till Hermione hears about-"

"Ronald Weasley, don't you _dare!_" Buffy broke in as she jabbed a finger against his chest just hard enough to make him wince. "I don't need your big trap spreading this to the whole school," she added before smiling sweetly up at the taller boy. "You wouldn't want to make me angry, would you?"

"Not bloody likely," Ron agreed, smiling despite himself as he ran a playful hand over Harry's head, messing up his hair even further. "Although it would be worth it to see-"

"Ron, did you even have a reason for looking for me?" Harry interrupted, reminding his friend of his impromptu and all too successful search for him.

"Oi, I almost forgot! Buffy," he said, turning towards the small slayer. "Snape sent me to fetch you," he explained, unable to prevent his grimace at the mere mention of the potion professor's name. It didn't matter that he now knew that Snape was one of the good guys, nor the fact that his education at Hogwarts was almost completed - nor even the fact that Hogwarts wasn't even technically in session. Despite all of this, the potions master still managed to take control of his small class and lay on the homework and deduct points from Gryffindor as if making up for lost time. And there wasn't even a house cup to compete for this year!

"Why is Snape looking for me?" Buffy asked, voicing Harry's same question.

"He said that there's a man down at the gates asking for you - an American."


	24. Chapter 24

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 24  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"It isn't the blood you share with each other that makes you family,  
rather it's the blood you shed for one another that makes you family."**  
-Anthony Folino-

At the mere mention of Ron's message, Buffy felt as though the world had turned upside down. She could only think of one American man that would be asking for her at the gates, and that was Xander - and if Xander was at Hogwarts, that meant that something was wrong in Sunnydale. Nothing else would bring her goofy friend all the way from the Hellmouth - nothing else _could_ bring him all that way. And the fear of what could have happened while she was away was enough to almost break her where she stood. Ron had said _one_ American man, and while she would hardly classify Xander as a man, the sole fact that it was only him that was waiting for her made her feel as though her blood had run cold. Where were the others? What had happened to warrant sending Xander for her? Wide eyes growing even wider, Buffy slowly shook her head as she turned to look at Harry - and one look was all it took to convey every fear that now plagued her mind.

"Ron, find Giles and bring him to the gates," Harry snapped, his eyes never leaving Buffy's pale face as his friend turned and ran from the room. "Come on, we better-"

"Harry, do it again," Buffy broke in, her voice sounding so unnatural to her own ears as she began to feel her muscles tighten in anticipation of what was to come. "I need to be there _now_. Do it again," she repeated as her green eyes locked with his.

It didn't take Hermione to figure out what she was asking. And while it would take them ten minutes at most to reach the gates if they left now, Harry understood why she asked this of him. If their positions were reversed, Harry couldn't imagine trying to endure those ten minutes of not knowing either. Nodding once, he focused his thoughts and schooled his emotions until he could think of only one thing: the desire to bring Buffy to where she needed to be. But as before, this was something that the school's wards would never permit of his magic. So instead, he once more reached out to Buffy in a way that he couldn't quite explain, and this time, he didn't even have to form the unvoiced question as he found the way into her core unbarred and lying open to him. As Harry gathered the strange magicks from her, he could feel Buffy's muscles tense, her breath hitching in her throat as her eyes widened imperceptibly - and then they were gone.

As the warm spring air encompassed them and their forms were cast into dark shadows, Harry exhaled loudly and then reached out a steadying hand to Buffy's small frame. "Are you alright?" he asked, puzzled by the fact that she looked slightly pale in the wan moonlight - pale and unsteady on her feet, which as far as he knew, was something of an oddity for a slayer.

"Fine," Buffy murmured as the dizziness passed, her eyes sweeping past Harry's taller frame and into the night. As always, the Gryffindor seeker had been thinking as he worked his mojo on them, for instead of apparating them straight to the gates of Hogwarts, which no doubt would have caused a bit of a stir and certainly would have let the cat out of the bag about his wandless magic lessons, Harry had instead brought them into the shadows just off the path. Pushing past him, she stepped onto the familiar rutted lane, her eyes locking on the unmistakable forms of Sirius Black and Professor Snape - both standing just within the gates to Hogwarts and blocking her view of her long-time friend. "Xand-" she began to call out, finishing the distance between herself and the others and freezing as the two men stepped aside, allowing her an uninterrupted view of her 'American' guest. "Angel?" she whispered, stilling between Sirius and Snape as her eyes tracked over the person that awaited her.

He looked exactly as he had the day that he had left her after the Mayor's failed ascension - well, she supposed that was to be expected, being a vampire and all. His brown hair was a bit shorter and the black leather duster that he wore was a bit different than the one that he had worn in Sunnydale, but his face... his strong chin, pale features, and glittering brown eyes that locked on her small frame were the exact same. Those eyes had carried her through many a hard night when she was a captive of the Centre, as had the memory of his strong arms holding her and protecting her from the injustices of their world. The brown eyes that had widened in pain and confusion as she had run him through with her sword and sent him to Hell to suffer for Angelus' sins.

"Buffy," he murmured, his words soft and fanning across her like a lover's caress as his eyes never left hers.

Shaken, Buffy moved to step towards him, only to stop in confusion as both Sirius and Professor Snape lay a restraining hand on each shoulder. "It's okay, he's an... old friend," she murmured, her eyes never leaving his.

"But he wasn't able to cross the barrier," Sirius murmured, refusing to release the small girl.

Sighing, Buffy tore her eyes away long enough to glare at the tall man beside her. "Neither was I the first time, remember?" she asked before pointedly removing his hand from her shoulder, a sharp glare at Snape having a similar effect, before stepping across the invisible barrier and stilling just before Angel. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her neck arched back and her eyes locked with his own. "Where have you been?" she continued, unable to prevent the hurt from creeping into her voice.

"I - I came as soon as I heard," Angel returned, his eyes filled with so much emotion that she couldn't decipher it all. His face was so unreadable - so Angel that she felt her heart stir even as it rebelled against the image of the man that stood before her. So much time had passed.

"How did you find me?" she continued, her mind trying desperately to process the fact that Angel was really standing before her.

"Faith, the others... they told me where to find you," he murmured before suddenly crushing her against him in an embrace that would have hurt had it been anyone else but the Slayer.

At first Buffy found her body stiff and unyielding against his chest. Everything was just happening far too fast for her brain to process. Here was Angel, standing before her and burying his face against her neck, just like no time had passed and... and her senses were spinning but something was wrong. Something was really wrong. Something was- "Angel, I-" she began, trying to pull away as his cold hands cupped her face and pulled her towards him, his cold lips claiming her own as he tried to devour her. Stunned, Buffy could do nothing but allow his lips to ravage her own, her mind spinning. Angel was here. Kissing her. And his lips were so cold and so hard... so different from... so different from _Harry!_ Gasping, Buffy used her slayer strength to pull her lips free of Angel's bruising caress as her eyes narrowed. Her slayer sense was going wild and quickly overruling her confused and overwhelmed emotions and thoughts. Her slayer sense was warning her. Warning her about-

With a series of loud cracks the clearing surrounding her and Angel was suddenly filled with Death Eaters, their wands raised and pointed not at her, but at the others who were gathered just past the safety of the Hogwarts barrier. Buffy turned her wild eyes away from the humans that surrounded her and towards Angel - only to find the face of Angelus staring back at her, full game face on and yellow eyes burning through the darkness. With everything happening too fast, Buffy didn't have time to react as Angel snarled and then lunged towards her, his fangs sinking into her neck deeper than he had gone when he had been on his deathbed and he had drank of her to save his life.

"Buffy!" Harry cried out, his wand appearing in one hand as he tried to rush past the barrier, only to be held back and restrained by both Sirius and Snape as the Death Eaters waved their raised wands at them. They were at an impasse, for while within the Hogwarts barrier, not even their magic could penetrate the shield protecting them - but that also meant that their magic couldn't escape to help Buffy.

Then, a soft whoosh of displaced air preceded the arrival by portkey of two more people: one a tall, middle-aged man dressed in a muggle suit and brandishing a wand while the other... while the other was an exact replica of the creature that continued to drink from the slayer. As confusion spread through the Death Eater ranks, the muggle-dressed man began stunning as many Death Eaters as he could, his face tight in concentration while giving the double a chance to recuperate from the travel by portkey. When properly situated, though, the human guise that he wore was quickly replaced by the face of a demon as his glowing yellow eyes locked on Buffy and his double.

"Get your hands off of her!" he growled, his muscles tightening before he tackled the monster that was drinking from Buffy, causing the slayer to fall to the ground, obviously stunned and bleeding heavily as the two doubles began fighting.

"Buffy!"

His mind spinning, Harry felt himself being shouldered to the side as Ron and Giles arrived, the watcher shoving through the stunned mass and crossing the barrier to his slayer's side. And even as the older man began dragging Buffy back across the barrier and to safety, Sirius and Snape were already stepping past the barrier and joining the muggle-dressed man in his one army fight against the hordes of Death Eaters that plagued the grounds before them. Stunned, the dark-haired teen stared stupidly at the fight that was waged before him before finally taking note of the small slayer that was sprawled on the hard ground at his feet, Giles frantically trying to talk to her and pulling her to her feet. "Buffy?" he asked, his voice shaking as her green eyes looked at him and then drifted towards the scene that was lit by the deadly light of flying curses.

Shaking his head, Harry followed her eyes and watched as his godfather and Professor Snape provided enough cover for the muggle-man and the double to make it back to safety, following them past the barrier until their group stood divided from the Death Eaters and the double that Buffy had called Angel. The double that had kissed her as though the rest of the world didn't matter. And the double that had then drank from her veins. Eyes narrowing, Harry moved until he was standing to Buffy's right, feeling Giles stand tall behind her, and turned away from the Death Eaters long enough to lock eyes with the double that stood protectively to her left. And then his eyes were drifting back to the outside world as a hush fell over the crowd, the monster that had attacked Buffy stepping free of his cloaked companions to stand just opposite the barrier from them. And from the look in the monster's eyes, Harry knew what was to come next - knew it with every fiber of his being. It didn't matter that his scar hadn't even twinged in discomfort, because as the rest of the world disappeared and as the glamour fell away, Harry found himself face to face with Voldemort himself.

Vaguely, Harry heard as the rest of those gathered recoiled in shock and horror at the creature that stood before them, with only a few scant feet separating the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived. He felt Sirius tighten his hand on his shoulder until it was painful. But none of that mattered, for Voldemort wasn't looking at Harry Potter, nor even Professor Snape, his ally-turned-traitor. Instead, the Dark Lord had eyes only for the small creature that stood before him - the petite girl whose red blood stained his lips.

With slow, measured movements Voldemort lifted his fingers and wiped at the blood that dripped from his mouth, his white, snake-like fangs glinting in the moonlight. Gleaming red eyes locked on Dumbledore's entourage, he then placed his glistening finger before his mouth and his smooth, flat tongue slithered out to lick the blood clean. "Little, little slayer," he murmured, his voice a soft hiss that caused the girl in question to straighten, her pale form unmoving as her eyes locked on his - eyes as hard as flint. "Consider this your warning," he continued, a slow, cold smile lifting his lips. "This is not your war - not your battle. If you don't leave Hogwarts and go back to where you belong, I won't be so kind the next time I visit the Hellmouth," he stated, nodding as the girl recoiled as though physically struck. "Turn your back on this and you'll never have to see another wizard again," he added, his red, burning eyes turning away from hers for the first time to lock with the green eyes of the boy who had been a pin-prick in his side for the past sixteen years - the boy who had grown much since their last meeting and stood now as a man. The boy whose blood he desired even more than the old fool, Dumbledore himself. The blood on which he would soon be feasting. "This isn't your battle," he stated one final time before disappearing with a loud crack that was echoed by his many followers as they apparated away from the wizarding world's stronghold.

For a moment more the group stood in stunned silence, their eyes locked on the darkness beyond Hogwarts' gates. A silence that was only broken by the surprised grunts of three men as the slayer that they all loved more than life itself collapsed between them.

* * *

With a soft sigh Buffy felt awareness slowly return to her limbs - an awareness that came with a jumble of far too many physical pains and emotional turmoil. In seconds she was assaulted with memories that battered her senses for attention. She and Harry sharing their first kiss and so much more, Harry somehow manipulating the magic that made her the slayer and using it to do the impossible, the sudden and completely unexpected arrival of Angel and his subsequent kiss that threatened to suffocate her, the Death Eaters and the pain from being drank from unlike she had ever experienced at the hands of another vampire, Voldemort taking Angel's place and warning her about... Sunnydale. With a gasp, Buffy's eyes flew open as she quickly tried to sit up, an effort that was thwarted by the weakness in her body as well as by the restraining hands of the two people who sat on opposite sides of the bed she was occupying. Confused, Buffy turned her bleary gaze from Harry's concerned green eyes to those of Angel and would have laughed out loud at the fierce glare that the two were aiming at each other had everything else not been so dizzy and their situation so serious. That confusion would have to wait for another time.

Allowing herself to be pushed back onto the soft mattress, Buffy's eyes quickly swept around the room. Infirmary - she was in the school's hospital wing. Aside from that, her eyes quickly took in the rest of the room's occupants: Dumbledore, Giles, Professor Snape, Professor Lupin, Sirius and... Samuel Fellows? That's right - she did remember seeing him down at the gates. Along with the two Angels. Confused, Buffy turned back to the vampire that stood protectively beside her bed, her eyes meeting his briefly before turning back to the assembled mass and then jumping back to him. From the love and concern that shone in his brown eyes, she had no doubt in her mind that this was the real Angel. "Why are you here? What's happened?" she asked, getting right to the point and skipping all of her earlier questions that suddenly didn't seem to matter quite so much.

For a moment, Angel's eyes moved past Buffy and met once more with the dark-haired boy that had refused to leave her side. The demon in him wanted to rip the kid apart for daring to look at his girl that way - for smelling like her - while the human side of him argued that this was the reason that he had left Buffy in the first place - so that she could find someone to look at her like this. Shaking away his thoughts, he turned until he met Buffy's direct gaze. "After leaving Sunnydale I went to LA where I met up with a half-demon named Doyle, Cordelia, and later, Wesley," he stated, trying to bury the pain that mentioning his friend still managed to bring behind a small smile at the later names. You pretty much had to see Cordelia and Wesley in action to see how much they both had changed and grown since Sunnydale. "Doyle received visions from the Powers That Be of people who needed help, and when Doyle was killed, he passed his powers to Cordelia," he continued, making his year away from Buffy the shortest back story he could manage. "A few days ago Cordelia received a vision of people dressed in black robes-"

"Death Eaters," Samuel supplied with a tight frown.

"-and the creature at the gates-"

"You-Know-Who."

"-attacking Faith and another woman," Angel continued without pause, watching as Buffy's face began to tighten. "We couldn't reach you or Giles and it took us a few days to track down where Faith was staying, but we came to Sunnydale as soon as we could... but we were too late to help. We arrived just as the creature and his people were leaving."

Feeling as though her earlier dizziness and weakness were being compounded by Angel's words, Buffy quickly closed her eyes against the images that plagued her.

Faith.

Against Voldemort.

On the Hellmouth with no slayer-magic immunity.

"Is everyone alright?" Giles asked, voicing the question that he knew his slayer couldn't. And even as Samuel's eyes locked with his old friend, eyes that were filled with such grave sadness, Giles knew that he had his answer. And so did Buffy as her breath hitched in her small body, wild and terrified eyes begging for the head of the Council to deny the cold knot that she felt in the pit of her stomach.

"Faith's watcher, Elizabeth Hamsley," he began, noting as the gathered adults all stiffened at the familiar name, "was held under the cruciatus curse for too long. She was killed," he murmured, watching as his own sadness was echoed in the eyes of the men that gathered there. Elizabeth had been a very bright and promising young witch in her Hogwarts days - days that were beneath the tutelage of the headmaster and which had to of corresponded with Snape and Black. And even though the girl had been a Ravenclaw, and a muggle-born at that, it would have been impossible for either of the men to not know of her.

For Buffy, though, the proclamation was of little consequence. While she felt for the watcher that had died at Voldemort's hands, she knew nothing of her beside what she had learned in the woman's letters. And as cruel as it sounded, her death held no personal meaning for her and was of little thought when the fates of her friends were still unknown. _Faith_... "And the others?" Buffy asked, forcing the question past her throat. "Faith?"

"You-Know-Who... he used the cruciatus curse on Faith as well and then after he performed the killing-"

"No," Buffy stated, interrupting the watcher's words as she denied what he was saying with everything in her body. She and Faith shared a connection now - a bond that went beyond being sister slayers and the Chosen Two. While she may not have felt Kendra's death when Drusilla cruelly took the young girl away from the good fight, Buffy knew that she would feel something if the same had happened to Faith. She had to.

"She's alive," Samuel quickly assured, watching as varying expressions of shock rippled around the room. "I'm not quite sure how, but even though she was struck with the killing curse, Angel and his friends were somehow able to bring her back," he explained, watching as Buffy's green eyes quickly looked to the vampire for a nod of confirmation. "And while she was only dead for a moment, the Council has already been notified that a new slayer has been called."

"Three Slayers?" Lupin broke in, obviously intrigued by the idea.

Sharing in the DADA professor's intrigue but quickly pushing it aside, Giles turned dark eyes to his old friend, a puzzled frown pulling at his lips. "And how do you fit into all of this?" he asked, watching as a grim smile lifted the man's lips.

"Elizabeth prepared the children for an eventuality such as this," he explained, a note of pride entering his voice. Hamsley had been a good witch, and an even better watcher. She would be greatly missed - however, her quick thinking managed to prevent this tragedy from becoming even graver. "She had placed several different portkeys throughout her house as well as the houses of the others. Xander, Oz and Willow were able to reach one when the attack began and were brought to safety in the woods outside of Sunnydale," he explained, watching how the slayer's eyes shot to him in the instant that he mentioned her friends. "They contacted me immediately after the attack. After assuring that the others would be safe, I came here as soon as I was able - and Angel insisted that he wasn't to be left behind," he added, nodding shortly to the ensouled vampire.

"But how did you cross the barrier?" Harry asked, not quite realizing that he had voiced his question aloud until the vampire's brown eyes shifted to his own.

For a moment, silence reigned as the two locked eyes, an unspoken message being passed between them before Angel finally looked away, his eyes drifting back to the head of the Watcher's Council. "Fellows warned me about it before we arrived," he said, shrugging his shoulders lightly before casting a curious glance at the old man that had watched the proceedings with crinkled and intelligent blue eyes. It went without saying that the aged wizard must be the headmaster that the Brit had spoken so highly of. "I knew that if Buffy could trust Dumbledore, then so could I."

And even though the conversations, explanations, and debates continued on around her, Buffy remained quiet. For once she knew that her friends were alright, her mind immediately turned back to one of the last things that Voldemort had spoken. The thing that she couldn't quite wrap her mind around nor get past. "It was a warning," she murmured, her words spoken more to herself than anyone else as a hush fell on the room. Shaking her head, Buffy tried once more to push from the bed, making it to her feet this time before she began to sway. Immediately, both Harry and Angel were at her side as both ignored her protests and forced her to sit back on the bed's high edge.

"So what will you do now?"

Not even quite sure who had at last voiced the unspoken question, Buffy felt the indecision tear at her. Shaking her head slowly, ignoring the dizziness that still plagued her, the small slayer's eyes drifted until they locked with the wizened eyes of her watcher. But he needn't have said anything at all as his eyes told her that it was her decision to make. Sighing, Buffy turned past her watcher, her eyes moving past everyone - even Angel - until they finally locked with the green eyes that she was coming to love so much. While his gaze spoke so much and despite how much the two teens were coming to care for one another, not nearly enough time had passed for them to have completely mastered the art of unspoken communication. Instead, her eyes asked the most basic of questions - a plea for help in this decision that was being forced upon her. With a single gaze she tried to show much how this decision tore at her - how the thought of leaving him alone in this fight was nearly enough to undo her - yet how much the safety of her friends called her towards Sunnydale.

And despite the fact that not a word had been spoken, Harry understood what Buffy was trying to tell him and so much more. So very much more. And he also knew that she wasn't really asking him to make the decision for her, but merely to support the decision that he knew she had already made - the only decision that she could have made. "You need to go back to Sunnydale," he whispered, smiling softly as he gently reached a hand out and tucked an errant strand of hair from her messy bun - now even messier from the busy night's activities.

"But I can't-"

"Voldemort was right," he cut in, his voice soft as the rest of the room fell away, his eyes only having room for the small slayer that sat on the hospital bed before him. Even as pale and worn as she was, a square gauze bandage taped to her neck, he still found her the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon - even more captivating than a veela. "This isn't your fight," he continued, forcing his voice to remain strong. "Besides... your friends need you."

"_You_ need me," Buffy corrected, even as she heard the truth behind his softly spoken words.

Smiling wryly, Harry slowly nodded his head. "Yes, I think that I always _will_ need you... but they need you more. And besides," he added, knowing that she was about to argue, "you would want me to do the same were it Ron or Hermione that needed me. And I would go to them... You need to go home."

Taking in a ragged breath, Buffy felt the tears burn as she tore her gaze away from his piercing green eyes. She knew he was right - knew that he was right even before he had spoken his first word. But that didn't make this decision any easier... it didn't make its conclusion any easier to accept. It had been one of the hardest things Buffy had ever had to do when she left Sunnydale for the first time, blindly putting her faith in Giles and allowing him to take her to a new world with the sole thought that they needed her... and that she unwittingly needed them. She had come to Hogwarts a broken slayer, barely being held together by false bravado and a stubborn need to never give in. In this strange world she had found a purpose and an evil that allowed her to stay focused and to burn the energy that had been building within her for months... and more importantly, she had found another place where she felt that she could belong. She found wonderful people, new friends and... and she found Harry. Thanks to Hogwarts, Buffy knew that she would be leaving the school as a different slayer than when she had arrived. Thanks to Harry.

"I have a portkey ready to take us back to Sunnydale," Samuel stated quietly, understanding that while the moment could last forever, forever was something that they didn't have. If Voldemort had his way, they may not even have tomorrow. "It's best to go now," he added, voicing his troubled thoughts aloud as he shot his old friend a worried glance.

"Poppy," Dumbledore called, beckoning the mediwitch forward, "if you could please find a few potions to send with the others - something to ease general aches and pains - perhaps some Pepper Up potion as well? And Severus, perhaps a post-cruciatus curse potion?" he asked, nodding towards the potions professor before turning wizened eyes back towards the others. "We will see to your belongings and will have them sent along soon enough."

Sighing raggedly, Buffy slowly nodded her acceptance of the headmaster's words as she pushed herself to her feet once more. Even as her strength threatened to leave her, Buffy found a reserve deep down inside and forced herself to straighten before Harry, his warm hands gripping each shoulder and giving her his support. And then, before she knew what was happening she found herself crushed against him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his waist and her head burrowing against his chest as she felt his cheek rest against her soft golden crown. This time Buffy couldn't stop the tears from falling as she clung to Harry with all the strength that she dared. Harry's future, his destiny, was so unknown that it mirrored her own in a way that made her cling to him all the tighter. They both knew at least one part of his future: in the coming battle it would come down to both Harry and Voldemort. It was the outcome that was so uncertain, and it was the outcome that she feared most. She had promised him that he wouldn't face that moment alone, and that together they would make it through somehow... and now Voldemort was making her break that promise.

Sighing, Buffy reveled in Harry's warmth before slowly pulling back, feeling his hold loosen until she was leaning back against his arms, her neck arching back until she could see his beautiful green eyes. "Please be careful," she murmured, slowly lifting one hand and cupping it against his cheek.

"Ron and Hermione will keep me out of trouble," he returned, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

"And who will keep them out of trouble?" Buffy quipped, her voice strangled as yet another tear broke loose. And then, unmindful of the various adults and ex-boyfriends that filled the room, Buffy's other hand drifted up to his other cheek, cupping his face in between her small hands and pulling him down towards her so that her lips could claim his own. The kiss was quick, sweet and chaste... and filled with so much longing that Buffy had to pull away before she lost control. She was the slayer, and as such, she was pretty sure that emotional breakdowns were probably listed in the forbidden section of the slayer handbook that she had never been given.

Forcing the tears back from whence they came and promising herself that they wouldn't come again until she was able to shed them in private, Buffy found herself imprinting Harry's face into memory before forcing herself to turn away. With reddened eyes she took one, and then two steps away before she felt Angel come up beside her, one strong arm wrapping around her waist and supporting her against him as they moved towards the others, Giles falling into step beside them and stilling before the door.

"Professor Dumbledore, I am truly sorry for having to leave you now," the watcher murmured, his heart feeling heavy within his chest. Whether it was from the knowledge of what Voldemort had done to Faith and her watcher or what treachery the Dark Lord had pushed upon his slayer... or the fear of what this heartache would do to Buffy's amazing progress from the shell that she had slowly emerged from, Giles didn't know. Nor did he really care at the moment. All that mattered in the world to him was the small girl that was supported by the vampire that would always love her - even when she could no longer love him back. "I had hoped that we would have been able-"

"You've already done so much," Dumbledore broke in, his bright blue eyes just a bit dimmer that night as he wrapped one soft, gnarled hand around Giles and clasped it within his own. "Thank you for coming," he added, his eyes moving with the trio as Samuel led them from the room. Sighing, the headmaster slowly turned and watched Harry even as the teen watched them leave with shadowed eyes, silent and so very still. Dumbledore knew that the boy was strong - perhaps stronger than them all. He was the Boy Who Lived and the one hope for their world in a fight against a darkness that they had never seen the likes of before, and of which the old wizard desperately hoped would never again fall upon their world. But more importantly, he was a boy who was now standing alone before his destiny - never an easy fate, especially for one so young. Oh, his friends and family would always support him, and it would take a strong force indeed to pry Sirius away from his godson's side... but sometimes, such support couldn't be drawn upon. Sometimes it took something even stronger to get one through the hell that was forced upon them - and in Harry's case, it seemed that Fate was showing her fickle hand in forcing him to move alone. For when it came down to it, didn't the hero always face their fate alone?


	25. Chapter 25

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 25  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"I am here to love you, to hold you in my arms, to protect you. I am here to learn from you and to receive your love in return. I am here because there is no other place to be... Leaving you once was hard enough; to have done it a second time would have been impossible. I loved you too much to have let you go again."**  
-Nicholas Sparks-

Samuel had shown great foresight in the creation of the small portkey that the Hogwarts group had used. To have the magical key bring them anywhere else but to Buffy's friends, and especially anywhere in the bright sunshine that still covered Sunnydale, would have just wasted time, caused Angel to go up in a blaze of fire and ash, and caused an already unstable slayer to become even more unbalanced. Thus, the head of the council allowed himself a brief pat on the back as the slayer and the vampire stumbled slightly, clinging to each other as the dizziness passed through their systems even as their eyes took in the deserted parking garage that was situated below the large hospital. A premature pat on the back, it seemed.

As Buffy's eyes swept over the familiar, cavernous room, she found her dizziness amplified as the screams of the past threatened to consume her once more. Grimacing, she felt Angel's strong arms wrap around her small frame as shivers caused her body to tremble, her face growing even paler. Harry had drawn upon the core of Buffy's magical slayerness when he used her magic to apparate them within the grounds of Hogwarts, weakening her and adding fuel to the fire when Voldemort had attacked and cost her a pint or two of blood. When that physical weakness was combined with the emotional turmoil of Angel's sudden and confusing arrival with the attack on her friends... it was no wonder that her usual barriers were quickly falling beneath the memories of the horrors she had committed in this same parking garage.

"Buffy, hold on - stay with us."

Even as the world seemed to blur and melt away, Buffy forced herself to focus on her watcher's words as Angel lifted her up and cradled her against his broad chest. This time there was far too much that needed her attention and Buffy knew that she couldn't allow herself to be swept up in the haunting memories of the past - no matter how viciously they attacked her.

People needed her.

Her _friends_ needed her.

With that thought giving her strength, Buffy forced her eyes open and began pushing against Angel's chest, forcing him to place her back on her feet. "I'm fine," she whispered, hoping that she could convince her trembling limbs to heed her words as she swayed slightly on her feet. "A bit dizzy," she amended, green eyes that were lined with dark shadows lifting, a weak smile aimed at the men who stared at her with such open concern. "But fine," she added, her voice hardening with an underlying layer of steel.

"I... I'm so sorry. I - I hadn't thought," Samuel stammered, obviously realizing the folly of his ways just a little too late as he remembered in hindsight that the site of their arrival was also the site of the murder of Quentin Travers and his fellow council-men. Rupert and the others had reported that Buffy didn't seem to remember what had happened while under the control of Mr. Lyle and in relation to those murders but... well, it now certainly seemed as though the others had been misled for Buffy's reaction all but confirmed that she did indeed remember everything that had transpired that day.

"Hey, all will be forgiven if you just lead the way to my friends," Buffy murmured, brushing the man's concern aside and reluctantly accepting Angel's strength as the elevator she hadn't even realized that they had entered dinged to a stop, the wide doors parting before them. And with her first view of what awaited them, Buffy realized that Samuel had already been in the process of doing so. Instantly the weakened slayer found her eyes drawn to a small waiting room that opened up before them. More importantly, she found her eyes drawn towards Willow, Xander, Oz and a stranger, all sitting in plastic, hard-backed chairs in the corner of the room. For a moment, with their presence not yet noted, Buffy greedily drank in the sight of her friends - friends that she hadn't realized how much she had missed until this moment.

Willow was sitting side by side with Oz, her hand held in his and her eyes, though obviously dark with worry and perhaps even grief, were shining as she chatted animatedly with Xander and the girl that he sat beside. Oz, now sporting a hair color that was a very fetching shade of green, was only half-listening as his eyes never left his long-time girlfriend, as though afraid that she could disappear at any moment. Willow had been present for the attack, and that thought had to frighten the bassist even though his stoic nature did little to show it. Even Xander was preoccupied as, while he seemed to be nodding at all of the appropriate places, his eyes kept darting to a small corridor that led further into the hospital. Which left the stranger beside Xander to be the last for her scrutiny. She was a little taller than the redhead she spoke with, and rather curvy compared to Willow, with long and very straight dark blonde hair and a gentle smile. Her entire demeanor spoke of an almost painful shyness and a gentleness that wasn't found in most, her clothing new age-looking, and when all of these observations were put together, it was easy for Buffy to deduce the stranger's identity. Willow had only been talking about her new Wiccan friend, Tara, for the past few months in her letters.

It took Giles shifting impatiently beside her for Buffy to shake away her thoughts and fully step into the room. Ridiculous, desperate thoughts of calling out 'honey, I'm home,' flitted through her mind only to be quickly dismissed. While her friends warranted such silly phrases, her heavy heart didn't allow for it. Instead, she settled for the simplest way of announcing her presence - one that had never yet failed.

"Hey."

Whether it was the catch-all phrase or her familiar voice that did it, Buffy found four sets of eyes swinging in her direction as both Xander and Willow launched themselves at her. "BUFFY!"

Grunting, Buffy managed a quick smile as she was bowled out of Angel's steadying hold, both of her friends squeezing her as though they thought she would disappear before their very eyes. Sighing softly, Buffy allowed herself the small comfort of their familiar embraces before slowly trying to disentangle herself from their death-grips. "Did you miss me?" she asked, forcing a bright smile that she barely felt.

"Miss you? Only every day since you left!" Willow admonished as the slim redhead stepped back, her hands never quite leaving Buffy's as green eyes quickly scoured her best friend. She looked pale and drawn with dark circles under her eyes and her hair pulled back in a messy bun, wisps of blonde framing her face. What really held her attention, though, were the tears that glimmered in her eyes and the puffy lids that were testament to the fact that Buffy had cried already that afternoon. "Are you alright?" she asked, worrying her lip as she gently lifted a hand and rest it against Buffy's pale cheek. "Didn't they let you out in the sun at all over there?" she asked, misconstruing Buffy's paleness as a testament to months of the gloomy weather that Giles had always spoken so fondly of.

"And what happened to your neck?" Xander added, feeling his muscles tighten as his eyes moved from the gauze pad back to his friend's watery green eyes. If he didn't know any better, he would say that they had somehow managed to skip back to almost exactly a year ago when they met with Buffy in this same hospital, the slayer looking just as pale and drawn with a similar bandage to her neck. Only that time she had been dressed in red leather instead of tan cords, and her eyes hadn't held the same torment they did now. There was also the small matter that while Angel kept a steady arm around her waist, his eyes shining with the same sickening love that they always held, Buffy didn't even seem to notice the vampire's presence... or at least, she didn't seem nearly as aware of him as she usually was.

"I'm fine," she murmured, sounding tired to her own ears as she waved away the injury. "Old Moldy Wart decided that he wanted a nibble," she added before stepping forward and wrapping one arm around Willow and the other around Xander, pulling them close and reveling in the familiar embrace of her two best friends. "I missed you guys so much," she whispered, smiling despite the pain in her heart. When she had left them, she had knowingly left a part of herself behind. While she still wasn't whole after having left yet another part of her heart, this time in Hogwarts, coming back to Sunnydale had just regained two of the parts that she had been so desperately missing.

"Well that makes three," Xander concurred, squeezing Buffy before pulling away, his eyes drinking in the small slayer once more. "And look at you, all Buffy and no tweed - and no colored hair! Glad to see you didn't turn all Giles or Spice Girls on us!"

"Nope, no tweed and stuffy accent - and British jokes and pop culture references!" she noted, a real smile pulling at her lips. "It's great to be home!" she added as Giles rolled his eyes dramatically at the three even as Willow and Xander both tackled the watcher in a similarly bone crushing embrace, obviously not forgetting the watcher that they all loved as a father. Snickering, Buffy watched as Giles tried to detach himself from her friends as Angel once more offered her his silent support. Strange, how even after all this time Angel could sense what she could not say - and in this case, he sensed the weakness that plagued her. Sighing, Buffy quickly shook the thought away and tried to recapture the levity of the moment - even if it only lasted briefly.

"All crumpets and tea in the mother country?" Oz asked, joining their little reunion and accepting Buffy's hug with his usual display of indifference.

Smiling softly as an image of Harry, Hermione and Ron flashed before her eyes, Buffy slowly shook her head. "No, not quite the stuffy place I was expecting it to be - although distinctly lacking in all areas of traditional entertainment," she admitted, grinning despite herself as she thought of many a night spent gathered by the fireside in the Gryffindor common room to a fierce game of Exploding Snaps. "Although, now my wit and humor can be appreciated once again!" she noted, her smile faltering and not quite making it to her green eyes.

"Since when did you ever have wit _or_ humor?"

Smile strengthening at the seemingly-harsh comeback, Buffy turned to take in the two people that she hadn't yet noticed - the two people that she hadn't seen, nor really thought of since they both left Sunnydale over a year ago. Too many things had happened in their absence for her to really give thought to those who had left her and her friends - too many things that took up too much of her attention, like the small matter of Angel's leaving, her mother's murder, her kidnap, and her mind-controlled killing spree. Not to mention all that she had just left behind in Hogwarts. Sighing, Buffy forced away thoughts of Harry as she vaguely remembered Angel mentioning his odd choice of co-workers - so odd, that Buffy supposed that she had to see it to believe it. "Cordelia, Wesley," she greeted, turning slightly to take in the tall brunette and the slim man she stood beside, each looking suitably different than she remembered. Perhaps it was the loss of designer clothes for Cordelia and the very obvious lack of a stuffy suit that did the difference for Wesley - or maybe it was just the look in their eyes that showed more than anything that they weren't the only ones to have changed quite a bit since they last met. "Good to see you again."

And surprisingly enough, it was. Even as the two eyed Buffy with open curiosity, obviously trying to figure out why the small slayer looked so vastly different to their eyes, Buffy was already moving forward and enveloping them each in a hug - a move that surprised everyone. When last they had met Cordelia Chase had closed herself off from her brief friendship with the Scoobies and would openly and very publicly blame Buffy for any bad thing that had ever happened to her vain self. And Wesley... well, technically Wesley had been the watcher that had failed her and Faith and had been carted away to face the Council's wrath. To say that the slayer contained any warm and fuzzy feelings for either of them a year ago would have been stretching things. Then again, a lot can happen in a year, and in her case, a lot _did_ happen.

"Okay, so when did you get so huggie?" Cordelia asked, arms crossing over her ample chest as her eyes narrowed at the petite slayer.

"Since I've learned to appreciate what I have," Buffy returned evenly as the girl threw the others a confused look, testament to the fact that the LA contingent hadn't been brought up to date yet, even as Willow quickly cleared her throat. Smiling, Buffy turned away from her circle of friends, noting that this was turning into quite the little Scooby reunion, and focused on the redhead, eyes skipping past her and to the taller, nervous looking girl that stood unnoticed by her side.

"Buffy, I want you to meet a friend of ours," Willow stated, a fond smile lifting her lips as she gently pushed the other girl before the small slayer. "Buffy, this is Tara. Tara, this is Buffy," Willow stated, watching as a warm smile lifted Buffy's lips, helping to put Tara at ease.

"Tara - nice to finally meet you," Buffy stated, smiling as she realized that her earlier guess had been right. Willow's new witchy friend, in the blood. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I-I-I've h-heard a-a-about you as well," Tara stammered, blushing as she felt everyone's gaze land on her, thereby putting her in the very uncomfortable and completely unwanted center of attention. "W-Willow h-h-has really missed y-you."

"Well, I've missed her too," Buffy affirmed as she squeezed the other girl's hand gently. "And from what I've heard, I should thank you as well. I've heard about how much you've been helping them out while I've been away. Thank you," she added, eyes skipping back to her friends - friends who were, for the most part, looking alive and well. As a matter of fact, there didn't seem to be a bump or scrape on any of them, which obviously pointed to the fact that this impromptu meeting wasn't taking place in the hospital that she hated so much because of any of them - a realization that quickly brought everything crashing right back. As her smile faltered and then slipped altogether from her face, Buffy turned back to the man who had brought her all this way. "Where's Faith?" she asked, getting back to business.

While she would have liked nothing more than to sit and chat with her friends for hours, her strength, already waning before Moldy Wart even bothered to show his nasty self, was definitely bordering on the dangerous side of complete depletion - something that she knew Angel was picking up on by the fact that his casual arm around her waist was now supporting most of her weight. Smiling at the thought, Buffy threw him a quick smile. They had a lot to talk about, and Buffy knew that it couldn't wait much longer, but for now she was just grateful for his presence and the connection that she knew that they would always share. Too much had happened between them for it ever to go away.

"This way," Samuel said, stepping forward and leading the massive entourage a short ways down the hallway before stilling before a closed door. "And while Faith has been moved to a private room, I highly think that the nursing staff would not approve of so many visitors at once."

"Which translates down to 'get lost,'" Xander explained, ignoring the man's annoyed glare as he smirked at his friends. "I don't think I'm ever going to understand why you British guys can't just say it how it is instead of talking in circles."

"If you think that's bad, try living with it for the past three months," Buffy returned dryly as Giles shot his slayer his own pointed glare - one that she, of course, customarily ignored. "I'll see you guys in a few minutes," she continued, smiling reassuredly at her friends before allowing Giles and Angel to lead her into the room. A room in which, had she been moving under her own power, she wouldn't have made it further than the door at the sight that greeted her. "Faith," she whispered, green eyes taking in the hospital bed that sat in the middle of the room.

The dark-haired slayer's skin was a pasty white color, her dark hair lying in sharp contrast around her shadowed features, dark lashes fanning against her cheeks. Faith looked like hell - the kind of hell that Buffy had faced when she had forced Faith's body to wake from her coma prematurely. Yeah, she looked like a whole lot of post-coma hell. "Faith?" she whispered, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the room despite the constant beeping and whirring of the many machines that worked to monitor the slayer and keep her with the land of the living. Frowning, Buffy pushed away from Angel's support and stumbled towards the bed, her hands reaching out to grasp the railing of the bed and using it to support her weight, even as her eyes refused to leave the dark-haired slayer's face. "Giles?" she asked as Angel reclaimed his position beside her, supporting her weight once more without word.

Sensing his slayer's unasked question, the watcher moved to stand opposite them, his green eyes tinged with worry as they moved over the pale slayer. Samuel had mentioned the cruciatus as well as the killing curse, and while he had no idea what could be done for the latter, Madam Pomfrey and Severus had more than equipped him to deal with the rest. "Faith? Faith," he whispered, trying her name again as he gently attempted to wake the unconscious slayer.

"Faith, you need to wake up now," Buffy murmured, joining in her watcher's efforts as she gently touched the girl's hospital-gown clad shoulder. An effort that was rewarded by a soft groan as the girl began to tremble. "Come on, Faith, we need you here," she whispered, smiling softly as bloodshot brown eyes fluttered open and then locked on her face, a small smile pulling at the girl's pale lips.

"Am I dreamin', B, or is that really you?" Faith murmured, her voice scratchy and raw.

"It's as me as they come," Buffy confirmed as she reached down and slid her hand into Faith's, squeezing it gently. "Although if you really wanted me to come back from England that bad, I can think of much better ways to get my attention," she added, smiling lightly as Faith tried to shift in the bed, a grimace pulling at her lips.

"Yeah, that makes two of us," she muttered, her eyes darkening as tears wet her eyes before she quickly and resolutely blinked them away.

Sighing softly, Buffy knew then that Faith thought of her fallen watcher - a watcher that had died in a fight that never should have been hers. "I'm so sorry, Faith," she murmured, her voice cracking and tears burning in her eyes at the injustice of it all... of the guilt that rippled through her form. The only reason that Faith was in that bed, watcher-less once more, was because Voldemort wanted to send a message to Buffy. In that regard the Dark Lord had succeeded far beyond his wildest imagination for his small message had caused her to turn tail as fast as she was able. She would do anything for her friends, and from her conversations with Harry, Voldemort knew that. He had learned of her greatest weakness, and when the rest of his parlor tricks proved ineffective, he used it against her - and there was nothing that she could do about it. "I can't bring her back," she added, her face wan and sickly in the bright fluorescent light, "but I can make you better," she added, gesturing to Giles who was removing small vials of different colored potions as she spoke. "A friend made them extra potent, and thanks to the Hellmouth, they should do the trick on getting you back to new in... well, in less time than the docs here have been promising," she stated, forcing a small smile for her friend.

"What about you?" Faith asked, eyes taking in Buffy's haggard appearance. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needs a quick fix," the slayer pointed out in her usual blunt fashion as her eyes pointedly stared at the arm that was busy supporting Buffy's rapidly diminishing strength.

"Here," Giles added, interrupting whatever excuses he knew his slayer was about to spout as he passed over a small, reddish-looking potion into her small hands. "Poppy provided enough pepper-up potion for the both of you," he explained as Buffy dubiously eyed the small vial she held.

Even though she had lived around this sort of thing for the past three months, Buffy had always felt apart from it. Wizarding magic couldn't touch her at Hogwarts - or rather, it couldn't touch her _anywhere_... save where she was currently located - and she had almost forgotten that here on the Hellmouth, any of them were fair game - a fact that Faith had so painfully proven. Sighing her acceptance, Buffy uncorked the bottle and lifted it to her lips - pausing only as the awful smell assaulted her senses. "Okay, it didn't smell this bad at Hogwarts," she griped as she pinched her nose against the smell. "Snape did something to make it worse, didn't he?" she asked, watching as Giles tried to force several similar bottles on the slayer laid about before her. Buffy closed her eyes and quickly tilted her head back, downing the awful smelling potion in one gulp. Almost instantly she felt a wave of energy course through her limbs as heat surged through her veins - a heat so intense that she was vaguely aware of twin blasts of steam streaming from her ears.

Flushing as Faith began to snicker at her, Buffy had to admit that despite the embarrassing side effects, the pepper-up potion did the trick as she felt a lot better than before. So much better that she gently moved Angel's arm away and stood on her own two feet once more, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments before turning back to her watcher. "Is there any-"

"You might as well head out with the others," Giles interrupted, a fierce scowl pulling at his lips as Faith began to try and evade his attempts to force-feed her the next potion. "I have a feeling that this may take awhile," he added, glaring pointedly at the bed-ridden slayer and completely oblivious to the wink the slayer was sending in Buffy's direction.

Shaking her head, Buffy squeezed Faith's hand before backing towards the door, her legs far steadier than before. "We'll be outside if you need us," she added, smiling softly as she slipped into the hall. But as she turned back towards the waiting room down the hall, she felt the soft pressure of Angel's hand on her back and understood his unasked question. "We need to talk," she murmured, voicing the thought for them both as Buffy's eyes lifted to his own - eyes that were so sad and reminded her so much of everything that she had loved about life only a short year before. Before everything went to hell. Sighing, Buffy felt the weight of the world come crashing back on her shoulders as she turned away from the room that held her friends and began walking away from them, Angel falling into step beside her.

As they moved silently down the corridor, Buffy's forced cheer dissolved under a wave of pain and grief - pain for what she had been forced to leave behind and grief for what could happen in her absence. Grief for the fact that she felt as though she was never going to see Harry or the others again. Buffy drew away from her thoughts as Angel gently steered her into an empty hospital room, mindful of the closed drapes that cloaked the room in darkness. On wooden legs the small slayer crossed the room and settled in a chair against the wall, idly watching as Angel hesitated for a moment before pulling another chair opposite of hers. For a moment, the silence stretched as they stared at each other, reading the pain that echoed in both of their eyes and as the words that needed to be said remained unspoken.

Finally, when the silence became too much, Angel was the one to break it. "I... I'm sorry," he whispered, his words sounding hollow and painfully inadequate to his own ears as Buffy quickly wrapped her small arms around her waist, her eyes drifting away from his. "I never should have left-"

"No," Buffy denied, her words stopping his own as she lifted her eyes, a sad smile pulling at her lips. "Angel, you had your reasons for leaving Sunnydale, and nothing can change those reasons. And even though it hurt at the time, we both knew that you were doing the right thing. You didn't belong in Sunnydale any longer. You don't belong here anymore. And what happened after you left didn't make those reasons any less valid," she added, knowing what Angel was trying to offer her, even though both knew it was something he couldn't give, nor could she accept. "Besides, it wouldn't have made a difference if you were there or not. Your presence wouldn't have changed anything, except that I may have lost you as well as my mom," she whispered, the tears brimming in her eyes. "And I couldn't have survived this had I lost you both," Buffy admitted as Angel abandoned his chair and settled on the floor before her, his eyes never once leaving her own.

"I know," Angel murmured, responding to everything that she had said even as it broke his own heart to admit it. Leaving Buffy had been one of the hardest things that Angel had ever had to do, and even now he wasn't completely sure if he had done it for the reasons that he had spoken. While he did want Buffy to be able to have someone to take her into the sun, he also knew that Buffy was the slayer and he understood what that meant. Buffy didn't have long, certainly not long enough to enjoy many of the things that she deserved, and a part of him selfishly wanted to be with her for the time that remained. On the other hand, he understood now that his redemption couldn't be found in Sunnydale and that, whether he liked it or not, he played a much larger role than the one he had begun to fill in Sunnydale. While he could have been content to simply be loved by Buffy and help her in Sunnydale, he understood now that he was a Champion and as such, was needed in Los Angeles. It hurt him to admit it, but in the end his love for her couldn't be enough. Being with her couldn't be enough. And though it killed him to do it, Angel knew that it was a lesson that they both understood. Buffy had felt that lesson's brutal call first when she had sacrificed him and their love, sending him to Hell to save the world. One year ago Angel was forced to do the same when he sacrificed their love for the greater good that awaited him in Los Angeles. It was his destiny, and sometimes destiny just couldn't be ignored. But that didn't make turning away any easier.

His first few days in Los Angeles had been the hardest few days of his long unlife. Everything in his body screamed for him to return to Buffy, to make his heart whole once more, while another part of his body begged for him to call Giles and maintain some kind of link between their worlds. But he had steadfastly refused them both. His destiny lay in LA and Buffy's in Sunnydale, forcing them into two different directions - into two different worlds. However, now... "The others... they told us a little of what happened," he murmured, breaking free of his thoughts and voicing part of his fears aloud. What went unspoken was all of the 'what-ifs' that remained. _If_ he had only stayed in touch, then he would have known about what had happened to Buffy. Their worlds were only separated by a few hundred miles - by a relatively short two-hour drive. How could it be that word of the hell that had fallen upon Sunnydale never reached them in LA? According to the others, the Hellmouth had become a veritable breeding ground for the nasty demonic stuff that he worked to fight in LA. The demon world knew of the slayer's disappearance and swarmed the small town. With all of his demon connections, the idea that he hadn't heard even one whisper of Buffy's plight was unfathomable. And yet... it had happened. The first that he and the others had heard about what happened was upon their return to Sunnydale. "Had I... had I known I would have come for you," he whispered, consolidating all of the what-ifs into one simple promise.

"I know," Buffy returned, a small play on Angel's earlier acknowledgement. And she did know. It wasn't just thoughts of her friends that got her through the Centre hell, but thoughts of Angel as well. She knew that somehow he remained oblivious to her plight for if he had, she knew that Angel would have crossed the depths of hell itself to see her safe. Just as she would always be willing to do for him. But he hadn't. Angel hadn't come for her and that meant only one thing. "Apparently," she added, a sad smile pulling at her lips. "Apparently it was meant to be," she murmured as Angel opened his arms to her in an unspoken invitation, one that she easily accepted as she slid from her chair and allowed herself to be cradled in his familiar embrace. "Ain't destiny a bitch?" she asked, her words muffled against his shoulder as she fought back a laugh that came out as a strangled sob.

Smiling wryly, Angel gently brushed a kiss against Buffy's forehead as he thought back to the boy that the small slayer had been forced to leave behind - to the way that he looked at her. "Are you happy?" he asked, his voice low as his words rumbled against her cheek.

"Sometimes," Buffy whispered, forgoing her usual platitudes for the blunt honesty that she could only really use with Angel. There were no secrets from Angel - never had been. Just because her heart no longer belonged to him didn't change that, for in a way, Buffy knew that she would never stop loving him. Even though her heart sang for another, another part of her would always remember what they shared - what they would always share. "I... I miss my mom, and it's still hard to deal with everything that happened - everything that I did while under their control," she whispered, smiling wryly as she realized that from her earlier display down in the garage, he understood this all too well. A smile that quickly slipped and then faltered altogether with her next words. "Angel, I killed," she murmured, pulling away slightly to look up into his beautiful brown eyes. "I killed humans," she repeated as the tears brimmed. "And it doesn't matter if they would have killed me, because I still killed them."

Angel knew that he could offer no words of comfort to ease the pain that she was feeling. There _were_ no such words of comfort to assuage her of the painful guilt that he knew she was feeling. He knew her pain firsthand and he understood only too well that it was a pain that she would always live with. Angel himself had lived with that pain for close to a hundred years now, and at times it was still as fresh and biting as it was in that very first moment when sanity returned to him long enough to remind him of what Angelus had done. "But you're not alone," he whispered, settling on the one statement that he knew to be true. And even though he was referring to himself and her friends, he knew to who else he was making reference.

"I know," Buffy whispered as she turned her eyes down and looked at the hands that she had cradled in her lap. "Harry's been helping me a lot and... and I think I'm working through it," she admitted as she lifted her eyes, desperately searching his for some sign that he truly did understand. "He makes me happy."

Swallowing the lump that was building in his throat, Angel slowly nodded past his own tears as a genuine smile lifted his lips. "Then I'm happy for you," he returned, and despite the pain that her words brought, Angel knew that he meant them. To see Buffy happy was worth all of the pain in the world, and if this boy could bring it to her, then he would give her the reassurances and support that she so desperately needed.

And despite the warmth that his words did bring, Buffy found herself unable to return his smile. Instead, she felt the tears blur her vision before breaking free and trailing unhindered down her pale cheeks. If she were with anyone else but Angel, Buffy knew that she would have been mortified at how easily she let down her guard, allowing her emotions free. But it was Angel, and with that thought in mind Buffy allowed herself to be pulled forward, his arms wrapping tightly around her and holding her close as quiet sobs began to wrack her small form. "I- I don't know if I did the right thing," she gasped in between pained lungfuls of air, her arms circling Angel's body and holding onto him for dear life. "Harry's going to face him and I don't know if he can do it alone... I... I think I love him," she admitted, her final coherent statement dissolving under a wave of fresh tears, lost to the pain of her breaking heart.


	26. Chapter 26

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 26  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."**  
-Anonymous-

Sighing distractedly, Ron allowed the voices of the various adults that surrounded him to drone somewhere in the back of his mind, his eyes skipping around the headmaster's cluttered oval office - an office that was filled to the brim with the main movers and shakers in the fight against Voldemort. An office that was, quite surprisingly, also filled with three of Hogwarts' oldest students. Ron and Hermione had only learned of Buffy and Giles' recent departure when they were summoned by Professor McGonagall to attend the meeting that was now taking place. But it wasn't only the news that was surprising, but the very fact that _they had been invited._ In the past, the three were always relegated to the background and had to find out what was _really_ going on the hard way - and the way that often got them in trouble. But to be invited into an important meeting with the likes of Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Lupin, Sirius, Hagrid, his parents, Bill and Percy, and a few other people that he couldn't quite remember the names to... well, it was unprecedented. Of course that meant that Hermione was hanging on every word that was being spoken, and occasionally offering her own input (which did earn her a few surprised and admittedly impressed looks from some of the adults). But to Ron, the debates were nothing new and despite the odd fact that they were included in such a meeting, the youngest Weasley boy found his attention drawn elsewhere. Namely, to the downcast face of one Harry Potter.

Buffy was gone, and from the way everyone kept speaking of her help in the past tense, Ron had a sinking feeling that the petite slayer wasn't coming back. And by the way that Harry's shoulders slumped and his eyes never quite met anyone else's, Ron knew that his best friend was well aware of this fact - and that it was eating him up inside. Sighing once more, Ron slowly shook his head. He had encouraged Harry's interest in the small slayer from the beginning, studiously ignoring Hermione's prophetic warnings about the heartache that falling for a slayer was sure to garner. Deep down, Ron couldn't help but think that Harry had been somewhat prepared for the eventuality of death and the inevitable separation that would bring... but to have Buffy abandon them? That certainly wasn't something that _he_ had foreseen. Although, in Buffy's defense, if You-Know-Who had appeared before _him_ in the guise of someone like Fleur Delacour and then proceeded to drink _his_ blood before adding in the final kicker that he had already paid a painful and in one case, deadly visit to his friends and family back home... well, Ron had to admit that he could see where she was coming from. But that didn't change the fact that his best friend cared about Buffy - so much so that he was caught snogging with her just a few minutes before the entire fiasco - and that she had left. Left them all, You-Know-Who be damned. It didn't change a thing and it certainly didn't do a thing to erase the heartache that was written plainly on Harry's face. Perhaps... perhaps Hermione had been right after all.

Sighing irritably, Snape glared at the gathered witches and wizards - and especially at the annoying trio that Dumbledore had seen fit to invite to this gathering. While it was true that they were all on the verge of graduating from Hogwarts and earning a true place in the wizarding community, he hardly thought that such an idea warranted an invitation to something quite so serious and important - even if the Granger girl was adding some tolerably good insight. The fact remained that the children had little place there, especially when Potter could do nothing else but mope that his girlfriend was gone and the Weasley brat could only fret over his moping friend. They were tiresome to watch and further added to his distraction and irritation - irritation that finally blew as McGonagall once more tried to dance around the issue at hand.

Nearly growling now, Snape quickly stood from his seat, the group's startled eyes falling upon him. "We will be here all night if we allow this to continue as such," he stated, his tone cold as he glared at the deputy headmistress. "For we all know why we are here. The Slayer is gone," he stated, his voice flat as he spared a brief glare to Potter before sneering back at his comrades - if you could call them that. "Voldemort himself has appeared at the gates of Hogwarts and has all but told us what everyone here fears to state," he continued, unabashed at using the Dark Lord's given name. He supposed that after years of torture from the sadistic prick's hands, you tended to get over such a small thing as fear of a name. He had learned first hand that there were much more important things to fear about his 'master.' "It won't be long now. Voldemort and his Death Eaters are most likely preparing their assault on the school as we speak. And we aren't ready for them. Without aid, aid which we know won't be coming, the school will fall. It's over."

* * *

Buffy watched as the brilliant sun's rays caused the green grass to sparkle and shift, bending to the summer's warmth and shining with a light that was custom for Southern California. It was a sight that she had longed for during her months in England - a sight that she had spent many a long afternoon describing to Harry and his friends. And now, when surrounded by such splendor, Buffy found herself unable to enjoy it as instead she thought of a towering stone castle covered in a layer of clouds, the bright moon lighting the school's grounds. She had only returned to Sunnydale a scant few hours ago, but even now when surrounded by familiar faces and ensconced in her watcher's re-opened apartment, her thoughts couldn't help but drift back to the friends that she had abandoned to face such a great threat all on their own. She had promised that she would be there for them and now she was forced to break that promise. Only two hours had passed, but so much could have happened in that time that the impending battle could already be over. Everything could be gone and she had no way of knowing their fate.

"The new Slayer is here."

Distracted from her thoughts, Buffy tore her eyes from the single window that was set into the wall of the upstairs landing. She hadn't even heard Faith approach... hadn't been aware of anything save her thoughts. As promised, Pomfrey and Snape's potions had done amazing work on the dark-haired slayer and by the time that Buffy had cried herself dry in Angel's embrace, Faith was checked out and ready to ditch the place that both slayers hated with a passion. No one had commented on her red eyes and after another potion that Giles had forced into her hands, Buffy felt physically better than she had in months and even the traces of her tears were gone. Then it was like old times as the Sunnydale group climbed into Oz's van while the LA contingent followed behind in a blacked-out car that was an ideal mode of transportation for one so deathly allergic to the cloudless blue sky, and more importantly, the bright sun that drifted over Sunnydale at that early afternoon hour. Within minutes the group had relocated to Giles' apartment, the windows opened to let out the musty smell while idle conversation drifted, everyone too afraid to say what was really on their mind. And too quickly, Buffy found her mind wandering away from the friends she had missed to the friends she had abandoned. Within minutes she excused herself and wandered to the only place where she could open the heavy drapes and let the sunshine warm her skin and hopefully, soothe her soul. So far, it wasn't working. "The new slayer?" Buffy murmured, trying and failing to force her mind to wrap around Faith's words as she turned to take in her fellow slayer.

"Yeah, some French chick," Faith added as she threw herself on the bed that had remained in the darkened apartment, patiently awaiting its owner's return. "She and her watcher just got in and are down with the others. Looks young - real young."

"So did we when we were called," Buffy returned as she reluctantly drew the drapes closed and moved to settle beside her sister slayer. "And that's fast," she added, her mind finally catching on to the unspoken parts of Faith's statement. The dark-haired girl had only technically died a scant five hours ago - if that. Meaning that this new slayer had only been activated in less time than it usually took for someone to traverse the Atlantic as well as the country.

"Kid's got a wizard for a watcher," Faith explained, shrugging her shoulders in a way that said she could care less, even as her eyes darkened imperceptibly at her words. "Did some kind of wizarding mojo to get them here in double time," she added as Buffy's focus abandoned her, her eyes drifting to a place that most definitely wasn't the small space that they sat in. "You miss him," Faith murmured, watching as Buffy's green eyes focused at her words, their gazes locking before the smaller slayer turned away once again.

"Yeah, you could say that," Buffy agreed as she forced a small smile - one that she knew wasn't fooling anyone. In fact, she realized that it was probably quite impossible to put anything past the younger slayer anymore. They had spent far too much time in each other's heads to pull off that anymore. If Faith could read Buffy as easily as Buffy could read Faith... well, even a book would be hard pressed to be easier than that. "I can't help feeling like I abandoned them," she added, shaking her head and turning her eyes away.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Not expecting this response, Buffy turned quizzical green eyes back to her friend. "Faith, I can't go back," she murmured, confused as to why she had to explain this to Faith, of all people. "He killed your watcher and he almost killed you," she pointed out, wishing she could take back her words as the girl flinched ever so slightly at her blunt reasoning. Buffy quickly shook her head. "If I went back, old Moldy Wart would just come back to Sunnydale and kill you all. I can't do that to any of you," she murmured, her voice trailing away as she caught sight of Xander, followed by Willow, Oz, Tara, Angel, Cordelia, Wesley and Giles as they all trooped up the stairs to fill the small room until it felt like it was ready to burst at the seams.

"What, you guys couldn't wait the five minutes for me to bring her down?" Faith demanded, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she jumped up from the bed and moved until she was standing with the others - nine friends staring down the small slayer who looked confused as to why she was surrounded by that many people.

"Is this a call for a slumber party or something?" Buffy asked as she slowly curled her legs beneath her, green eyes ticking to the resolute faces of her friends. "And aren't we neglecting our new guests?"

"We sent them out for bread and cheese," Xander returned evenly, his face so serious that Buffy felt her confusion only deepen, "and anything else they wanted as a bad ruse to get them out of the apartment so that we could talk."

"Talk?"

"Well, we actually already finished talking," Willow admitted with a sheepish smile.

"Although at first it was more like Giles talked, we listened," Cordelia interrupted with a long-suffering sigh. "I was looking for the tweed and waiting for Wesley to interrupt every other sentence and felt like I was back in high school all over again," she griped as both Giles and Wesley shot her an indignant glare.

Confused, Buffy arched a brow at her watcher as he did his best to avoid her pointed stare, choosing instead to do a long-drawn out and furious inspection of the closed window behind him. "Okay, I'll bite," she stated, arms crossing over her chest as she turned back to the delegation before her. "What was the big discussion about that someone forgot to invite Buffy to?"

"Pretty much about the fact that our lives have been in danger since the day we were born on top of the Hellmouth on one glorious day some odd nineteen years ago," Xander explained with a goofy grin as Willow elbowed his side sharply and nodded towards the others in their conglomeration that certainly weren't born anywhere close to nineteen years ago and especially not atop the Hellmouth. "Well, the point is that we're always in danger-"

"And not just because of you," Willow quickly added, "because, hello, Hellmouth!" she finished, singing the last part as she bounced on the balls of her feet, grinning at her best friend that she had missed so much.

"So we think you should go back to Hogwarts," Xander finished, his smile faltering at the confused and crestfallen expression on Buffy's face. Then, in a flash of understanding, he quickly added in the kicker. "Only this time, we're coming with you."

"Neh... huh?" Buffy muttered, shaking her head as her eyes once more drifted to her watcher who continued to studiously remain outside the current conversation. An odd trait for her watcher. Sighing, Buffy turned back to the others, surprised to see that by the expressions on their faces, this proclamation didn't only include Xander and Willow, but all of the others as well, including Oz, Tara and those from Los Angeles. Shaking her head, Buffy's expression twisted into a hard frown as she looked at them all in turn. "Apparently what Giles forgot to mention in this discussion," she began, her eyes landing for a moment on her watcher, "is the fact that this is more than just Hellmouth dangerous. This is a whole new _world_ of dangerous that doesn't belong to you guys. I mean, haven't you heard anything that anyone at all has said in the past four years? We have a responsibility to the Hellmouth. And Angel just finished telling me of the responsibility that you guys have to Los Angeles!" she added, frowning pointedly at Angel and the others. "What part of this responsibility gig aren't you guys picking up on?"

"And weren't you," Xander broke in, his eyes hard as he refused to turn away from his friend's piercing glare, "the one who told us that you had to leave us and go to this magic school of yours because your bad guy wasn't just their problem?"

"They got a point, B," Faith added, her dark eyes locking with Buffy. "Once that school of yours falls, your big old nasty is going to become all of our problem."

"But the Hellmouth-"

"Has a new slayer," the dark-haired slayer promptly cut in with a smile that said that she knew she had won, even if Buffy didn't quite realize that yet. "Technically, my untimely demise has just passed the mantle on to the new kid," she added with a smile that bordered more on a leer. "This ain't my place anymore, no more than it's yours, and it sounds like we're needed more at the witchy school."

"Three slayers does sound like overkill," Oz added, surprising Buffy as he joined in the conversation.

"And I think I owe some ass kicking," Faith added, her expression turning dark as her hand flexed at her side. "E was pretty cool and I think she deserves at least that."

"Besides," Xander added, pushing his own sorrow to the side, "you, Faith and Angel got that whole uber strength going, and while Oz, Wesley and I may not be all up on the magic, we're pretty good with the weapons. When the fight starts we can always hang back and play Wesley Snipes and snipe a bit from the rooftops."

"And Tara and I have gotten really good with the Wiccan magic," Willow added eagerly, her eyes shining. "And yeah, while we can't draw on the Hellmouth, Giles said that the school and the grounds are practically coated with it."

Smiling wryly at her friend's enthusiasm, Buffy automatically turned to the last person who hadn't spoken up with her grand plans for what she'd be doing in the upcoming battle - a smile that grew as Cordelia met her even gaze. "Hey, I'm just along for the ride," the brunette snapped, crossing her arms stubbornly before her. Yet despite her amusement, Buffy felt her frown returning as visions of Faith laid up in the hospital bed plagued her mind. She couldn't do this to her friends. She couldn't willingly endanger them. Not-

"Buffy, we've discussed this a great deal-"

"Obviously," Buffy snapped, her eyes returning to her watcher as the eldest amongst them finally joined in the conversation.

He had hoped that the others would be able to win this argument on their own, showing the small slayer that they in fact had made this decision on their own, but Buffy was stubborn. So stubborn that Giles had been quite prepared for this eventuality. "-and we've come to the conclusion that this option makes the most sense," he finished, his voice firm. "If Voldemort manages to take Hogwarts, an outcome that I'm certain will happen without our help, then what is to stop him from coming back to the Hellmouth and finishing what he started?" he asked, watching as Buffy's eyes narrowed at him. "What would stop him from coming back when he now has _both_ slayers in a place where they are unable to do anything against him?" he asked again, wondering if enough time had passed for these same thoughts to have passed through his slayer's mind. "Voldemort made a tactical move to place you in the only location where he can hurt you," he stated, ruthlessly pushing his point. "Everyone is in far more danger if they remain here on the Hellmouth than if they take the fight to him. Buffy, we must end this. Once and for all."

Sighing, Buffy slowly closed her eyes against her friends' faces. She loved them all so much that it killed her to think that she could be bringing them before an even greater danger than what they faced on the Hellmouth or in her native Los Angeles. They were asking her to bring them to the front line of a war. Such a move could be asked of Faith and Angel, for it was their destiny along with hers to face the darkness that opposed their world... but the others? They didn't have to do any of this, and in that moment, Buffy realized that such a thing made the others the bravest of them all. Even more brave than her and Faith and Angel. For it took far more courage to face an enemy that needn't be opposed. Yet in her heart she knew that Giles was right. She knew it from the moment that she had been forced to make this decision. It was a lose-lose situation and her watcher had merely forced her to see which loss could have the potential to be greater. Her friends could suffer more by taking them to the front lines of this battle, but in the end, the world would suffer the most if they didn't. And she understood the other subtle truth to Giles' words: Hogwarts and everyone there, including Harry Potter, would fall without them for they couldn't face Voldemort on their own.

"Then we go," Buffy murmured, her eyes opening as she stood before her friends. "We go to Hogwarts," she repeated, her voice becoming more sure as everyone nodded their agreement. They had known that they would win all along, for there was no other decision for Buffy to make. "Giles, get a hold of Samuel and see if you can arrange for two portkeys-"

"Two?" the watcher asked, his confusion evident.

"Yeah, we have a stop to make before returning to your mother country," Buffy returned, a sly smile lifting her lips. "We have some old friends to see first."

* * *

With a soft whoosh of displaced air, ten people appeared in the large marble foyer that had been deserted up until a second earlier, all but one swaying and stumbling on their feet as their equilibrium slowly caught up to them. "Ooh, I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that," Buffy grumbled as she released her death lock on Xander's arm and turned bright eyes to the grand entryway that seemed only vaguely familiar. "A lot nicer than I remembered," she muttered as the group slowly began to fan out, their eyes warily trained on their surroundings yet heeding enough sense to remain behind the small slayer.

"Buffy, we haven't much time," Giles murmured, stepping to his slayer's side as his eyes swept over the grand marble that glittered under the waning sunlight that bathed the room from towering windows behind them. They were on the eastern side of the continent now, which meant that it was now three hours later and that much closer to returning to where they were needed.

"I know," Buffy returned, her voice a soft hush. "This won't take long," she added, a sly smile lifting her lips as on cue, a stream of men and women dressed in the fine suits emptied from the corridors that surrounded them, black pistols raised and pointed at their entourage. Grinning openly now, Buffy took a small step forward as the guns followed her movements, dozens of eyes locking on her - some more than a little familiar. "Hello boys - did ya miss me?" she asked, smiling saccharine sweet at a couple of men right before her - men that stumbled as their eyes widened in recognition. But whatever retort they were to offer quickly died as the armed personnel began to part in a small wave as the hard tapping of stiletto heels echoed in the marble room.

"Alright, someone better tell me what in the hell is... Buffy?"

Feeling her grin widen, Buffy watched as the tall, leggy brunette froze just before her contingent of sweepers, brown eyes locked with green. Tilting her head to the side, the small slayer took in the expensively tailored black leather skirt that ended mid-thigh and the cream colored blouse that had to be silk, the perfectly coiffed brown hair and the brown eyes that stared at her with amazement. And the revolver that was now pointed at the ground, of course. "Glad to see that running a private organization hasn't changed you a bit, Miss Parker," Buffy stated, smirking as the taller woman arched a fine brow at the girl before waving for her security personnel to lower their weapons.

"Someone send for Jarod," she ordered, her voice clipped as she turned her eyes back to the small blonde. "Well, you certainly have," she stated, her tone dry as her eyes scoured over the smaller girl. Tan cords, black, slim-fitting tank, blonde hair pulled back in a smooth French twist, and green eyes that sparkled. The girl that stood before her looked more like the girl that Miss Parker had met close to a year ago back in Sunnydale and not at all like the shell of a girl that had remained once the Centre had been through with her.

"Like the hair?"

"Suits you better than bald," Parker returned, the smallest of smiles pulling at her lips as her eyes looked past the girl to take in the odd entourage that flanked her. She recognized all save for four, yet from the way that they grouped together, it was obvious that they all knew each other - knew each other well, from the looks of it. "Two questions," she continued, eyes gliding back to the small waif of a girl that had been the previous Centre's undoing. "One, what are you doing here? And two, how in the hell did you just pop out of nowhere?"

"In reverse order? Magic and we need your help," Buffy returned, her explanation halting as another joined their midst, one that was much more obvious in his happiness at seeing her again. "Jarod!" she greeted, unable to quell her enthusiasm at seeing the man that had saved her life in so many ways - a man who had shared a fate with her for a time. Grinning, she quickly strode forward and wrapped her arms around the pretender's neck, laughing softly as his strong arms held her and lifted her high before placing her back on her feet.

"So you _do_ still exist," Jarod exclaimed, his boyish grin lifting his features as he stood back, his brown eyes tracing over her form. "We hadn't heard from you in months, and Broots couldn't find hide nor hair of you and Giles," he added, turning away to nod briefly at the watcher who had joined their little circle.

"My bad," Buffy returned, grinning impishly at him. "I was unexpectedly called out of the country and I wasn't sure if the Centre accepted owl post," she deadpanned, her grin widening as Parker and Jarod shared twin looks of confusion. Laughing, she quickly shook her head. "Listen, I promise to explain later, but for now we need your help."

"Whatever you need, you know it's yours," Jarod returned, locking eyes with Miss Parker as she nodded her head in confirmation.

"Just the answer that I was counting on," Buffy sighed before turning and nodding at the group behind her. Instantly Xander, Oz, Wesley and Cordelia broke from the others and moved to join them. "How soon can you outfit them with four sniper rifles and enough tranquilizer darts to take down an army, in addition to any smoke bombs or any other non-lethal yet incapacitating implements of war?" she asked, her eyes returning to the two.

"An army?" Parker asked as Jarod turned his eyes to the side, obviously doing some quick tallying in his head.

"Ten minutes work for you?" he asked, seemingly satisfied with whatever figures he had come up with.

"If you can do it in five then you'll be my hero forever," Buffy returned, watching as the pretender nodded slowly.

"Consider it done," Jarod confirmed as he quickly turned away, his hand reaching for his cell phone as Parker nodded at the contingent of sweepers behind her.

"Let's do this people," she barked, her eyes narrowing threateningly as a group quickly broke away from the rest and began to follow after the pretender. Seemingly satisfied that the task would be completed as ordered, the brunette then returned her attention to the others. "So I've got five minutes, let's hear it."

"I don't think you're quite going to believe what I'm going to tell you," Buffy warned, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Try me."


	27. Chapter 27

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 27  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"I'm beyond tired. I'm beyond scared. I'm standing on the mouth of Hell and it's going to swallow me whole and it'll choke on me. We're not ready. _They're_ not ready. They think we're gonna wait for the end to come like we always do. I'm done waiting. They want an apocalypse? Ooh, we'll give them one. Anyone else wants to run do it now, 'cause we just became an army. We just declared war. From now on we won't just face our worst fears, we will seek them out... There is only one thing on this Earth more powerful than Evil, and that's us."**  
-Buffy Summers-

Professor Minerva McGonagall's dark eyes roamed over the crowded Great Hall - a hall that was deafening with the voices of panicked and frightened witches and wizards. It was late. Far, far too late to be having such a meeting as the smallest of the children were falling asleep on their feet as their parents argued in loud voices, begging for Dumbledore to take back his words. The end was coming for them all, inevitably, and there wasn't even enough time to allow the residents of Hogwarts to have one last worry-free night of sleep before being given such grave news. They had no choice. Snape had been right in his dreadful conclusion and everyone knew it. Voldemort was coming and they weren't ready. They didn't have a plan and they didn't have a hope. They had a Great Hall filled with capable and strong wizards and witches and the families that they cherished so much - and all of these people who would inevitably fight for their lives and the lives of their children would fall because they were nothing compared to Voldemort's might. Even had they the slayer, luck would not be with them in battle. Hogwarts would fall, and with it, the rest of the wizarding world. And with that, the world.

"But _please_ Master Dumbledore, sir, there _must_ be another way," one witch cried out, her shrill voice carrying above all of the others as the parents clung to their children. Send their youngest away, he had said, and fight the last fight of their lives was went unspoken. Hope their children reached safety and die in a martyr's cause. Even now, the eyes of many ticked to young Harry Potter as he stood behind the teachers, his godfather's hand resting on the youth's shoulder as his friends closed rank around him. But Minerva knew, just as the others, that no hope could come from the young man. And even as desperate eyes looked to Harry, the eyes of others scoured the room, desperately in search of the small blonde girl that had proven herself to be a force to be reckoned with. Word had spread like wildfire of her defeat of a squadron of Death Eaters, of the dark magical creatures that she had slayed in the Forbidden Forest. The small woman-child, such a physical opposite of Harry, had come to represent the other hope for their world. A hope that was noticeably absent from their gathering this night. Even though Dumbledore himself had spoken of her departure, those gathered continued to search for her, as though not quite believing that the small slayer and her watcher had abandoned them to their fate. As if the child had a choice in the matter.

"I'm sorry, Madam Crookshane," the aged headmaster responded quickly, his stern expression doing little to betray the late hour. "Lord Voldemort has given us little-"

"But the Slayer!" someone else called out, their words causing many a shoulder to stiffen at the reminder of the one who was missing.

"Had to stop and pick up some friends on the way - sorry I'm late!"

Gasping, Minerva turned along with every single witch and wizard in the room as they parted, making way for the small blonde and an entourage of young people that stepped brazenly into the Great Hall. Confused, she watched as they made their way towards the head of the room, an occasional black bag slung over a few shoulders while the slayer grinned cheekily up at them, her tanned skin glowing in the torchlight and looking nothing like the girl that had left their halls only a few short hours before.

"Miss Summers," Dumbledore greeted, his blue eyes twinkling and his mustache twitching in a manner that suggested that he was fighting to restrain himself from chuckling - an absurd thought that instantly made the deputy headmistress suspect that the headmaster had been expecting the girl's arrival the entire time. "While I had hoped to be seeing you again this night, I wasn't quite expecting so many... interesting, companions," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the group.

"Well, I've never backed down from a fight before," Buffy returned flippantly as she tilted her head to the side, "and Moldy Wart was hardly going to be the first." Shrugging slightly, Buffy flashed a quirky grin at the group before turning and gesturing to her friends who were eyeing the amassed witches and wizards with open curiosity. "Plus, my friends have never let me face down a fight alone, either," she added with a proud grin at her friends. "From the Hellmouth I bring you Faith, fellow slayer and member of the closely guarded membership of the Chosen Three," she chirped, watching as Faith nodded distractedly at her grand introduction, the slayer's brown eyes sweeping over the people that surrounded them, her smile turning coy as she caught sight of Bill Weasley. Rolling her eyes, Buffy turned back to her friends. "Also from the Hellmouth is Xander, a muggle that's been fighting the good fight for the last four years," she said, nodding towards Xander who waved eagerly at the group of wizards and witches, "Willow and Tara, a wicked cool Wiccan team," she continued, both the slender redhead and the taller girl blushing at their combined intro, "and Oz, a werewolf," she finished, watching as more than a few people drew back form the green-haired teen as he looked around him, utterly unfazed by the floating candles nor the bewitched ceiling high above.

At this point, Buffy took time out from her introductions to smirk at both Sirius and Remus, the latter of which was busy curiously inspecting the teen. "Told you I was talking from experience," she stated, grinning before turning to the final four. "You all already know Giles, and on loan from LA is Angel, a vampire with a soul, Cordelia, another muggle, but this one receives visions from the Powers That Be, and Wesley, an ex-watcher and current demon hunter," she finished proudly, her eyes shining. And then, as a thick silence fell over the room as more than a few bewildered, and quite a few frightened gazes, were thrown at her bizarre group of friends, Buffy slowly shrugged and turned back to the head witches and wizards that had quickly become a part of her life at Hogwarts.

"The really old but powerful wizard dude is Professor Dumbledore," she stated, jerking her thumb towards the headmaster as she nodded at her friends. "He's in charge," she added before turning and quickly going down the line. "I don't know who the old lady smelling of cats is, nor the slender old guy, or the guy... with the really weird eye and messed up nose," she continued, grimacing as her eyes fell upon Mad-Eye Moody, "but the glowering guy dressed in black is Professor Snape, an ex-bad guy who made the icky potions, and the strict looking lady is Professor McGonagall - another in-charge type," Buffy explained in a quick aside to her friends. "And on the other side we have Hagrid, a half-giant-"

"Holy cow! Talk about milk doing a body good," Xander murmured from behind her, stilling Buffy's introductions long enough to earn a small smile from the blonde.

"-Professor Lupin, a werewolf, Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, the Weasley family and... and this is Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," she finished, her voice falling silent and her smile faltering as she found Harry's face amongst the others for the first time. Instantly Buffy felt as though the rest of the world was slipping away as Harry pushed past the others until he was standing before her, his beautiful green eyes never leaving her own.

"You came back," he whispered, one hand hesitantly reaching forward to rest gently against her cheek.

"I couldn't stay away," she returned, her voice soft as she mirrored his movement, her hand lifting opposite of his and gently brushing a lock of the deepest black from his forehead before settling down to rest against his own cheek. "I promised you that you wouldn't have to do this alone," she added as she became lost in his eyes.

"Oh, just kiss and get it over with already!" Faith called out, her voice loud and echoing over the Great Hall and effectively ruining the moment as Buffy and Harry became aware of the eyes of every single witch and wizard in the room - all resting on them.

Flushing, Buffy quickly drew away as Harry forced back a cough, his face just as scarlet as her own. Luckily for them both, Dumbledore chose that moment to grow a heart and take pity on them both as he quickly clapped his hands together. "It seems as though our luck is changing," he called out, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Please remain here while we adjourn to the other room for a few minutes," he added before urging the Order as well as the newcomers to retreat back into a large room that sat just behind them. It seemed that their luck was changing indeed and that they had much to discuss - very much to discuss.

* * *

"Tom Riddle was never a patient man which makes me believe that Voldemort is not patient," Dumbledore stated, his voice grave as his blue eyes traversed the crowded room, filled with so many friends and strangers. In the very center he stood tall with McGonagall and Severus flanking him, the rest of his wizarding folk spread around him while the slayer and her watcher stood opposite of him, the dark-haired slayer and the vampire flanking them while the rest of her friends spread out behind her. They were a war party and they had a war to prepare for. "The attack is coming and it will be strong," he murmured, his mind unwillingly returning to all of the witches and wizards who awaited them in the other room. The brave people whose fates rested in their hands. Sighing, he slowly shook his thoughts away. There was far more at stake in the upcoming battle than their relatively insignificant lives, for the fate of the entire wizarding community, perhaps the world, rest upon their shoulders. "What is the status of his creatures in the Forbidden Forest?" he asked, his piercing blue eyes landing on the small slayer.

"I can't say for certain," Buffy returned as she threw a quick look at her watcher, waiting for his nod before continuing. Thanks to Giles' persistence, she had only spent two patrols alone in the forest, and the first one had ended up with her nearly being disemboweled while the second caused a feud between them that had lasted for a month. Her watcher knew as much of the forest as she - but as his look so pointedly told her, this was a battle that they were preparing for, and in such cases, it fell upon her to organize their forces. To lead them. "For the last three months I've been patrolling the forest and I've never come away from a night without slaying at least something big and nasty," she stated, forcing her mind back to the headmaster's question as she shrugged slightly. "There's still some nasties out there, but if I had to wager a guess, I'd say that I've brought down his forces of an average of five nasties a night," she admitted with a small frown, pausing long enough to shoot Harry a small grin. What went unspoken was that there were a few nights when far more had been brought down - especially one night when Harry had helped her to take down a squadron of Death Eaters on top of her usual nightly slay quotient. "And not being so hot with the math-"

"Four hundred and fifty," both Hermione and Willow volunteered at the same time, an act that caused most everyone in the room to spare a brief glance at the two girls before turning back to the slayer.

"Around four hundred and fifty it is," Buffy laughed, throwing her friends a quick smile before turning back to the headmaster. "But I can't say for sure how many are left, nor the kinds," she added as Angel shifted slightly beside her, a small frown playing at his lips.

"What kind of demons can we expect?" he asked as he glanced around Buffy to the other slayer, nodding at her slowly before shifting his attention back to Buffy.

"The only real demons that I've seen have been fledgling vampires. Otherwise it's a variety of nasty magical creatures that may still be able to pull their mojo on you," she stated, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"And I'm afraid that won't be the only weapon of his attack," Dumbledore added, his expression turning grim. "Voldemort will bring with him an army of Death Eaters, those that have evaded capture as well as those that he has liberated from Azkaban."

"Which means that some of them are going to be cracked," Ron volunteered to the newcomers, even as he seemed to realize that he had just interrupted Dumbledore himself. As his face burned a bright scarlet, he shrugged apologetically at the headmaster who merely smiled in return, even as his mother landed a fierce glare on him.

"That also means that Voldemort will have the dementors with him," Sirius added, sighing softly as Remus dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. After twelve years in Azkaban, dementors should have been a familiar figure for him, but they only became familiar in his nightmares. The dementors had almost given him the kiss a few years back, and each night in his dreams they still persisted on visiting him, vying to steal his hard-earned happiness away. "With so many dementors, I fear that far too many of our forces will have to be diverted to keep them busy - too many of our best wizards and witches," he added, frowning further. "There are very few that can perform a patronus charm strong enough to drive away one of these creatures."

"And what about the smallest of children?" McGonagall asked, her eyes sweeping around the room. "While most of the students can help in this fight, there are many more that are far too young to be of service. Their parents shall be distracted by this and we lose advantage with that distraction. What can we do to keep them safe?" she persisted.

"Once the attack begins I want Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom to meet with the youngest of the children before the fireplace in the Great Hall," Dumbledore broke in, his eyes skipping to Arthur and Molly Weasley, awaiting their nod before continuing. "Once Voldemort takes down the barriers they must floo with the children to Arthur's office in the ministry. From there they can then begin contacting as many of the Order as possible, alerting them of the attack and sending aid to us. The ministry aurors are not to be trusted," he stated, his voice firm before turning his eyes to the young slayer. To some, such a move would seem odd as the mighty headmaster deferred the lead to the young girl - a mere child. But when it came to her own people, Buffy was the commander of their army and as such, they would follow her orders or die trying.

"Professor, I need four portkeys that will bring the user to each of the four Hogwarts towers," she stated, watching as Dumbledore looked briefly to McGonagall before nodding in agreement. "Good, when the defenses fall I need Xander, Oz, Wesley and Cordelia to take the portkeys to the towers and use the rifles and other goodies to begin taking out as many Death Eaters as you can hit. I get the feeling that Moldy Wart isn't going to come knocking on our front doors, but from all sides," she stated, waiting for Dumbledore's nod as some of the old, crotchety people she still didn't know started at her name for the most-feared Dark Lord of their times - perhaps ever. "Jarod made the drugs pretty potent so one hit will put that person out of commission for a minimum of twelve hours," she stated, unable to resist a small glance at Remus and Sirius, wondering if they remembered their own encounter with the muggle sleeping potion. And by the small glares that each sent in her direction, she was given her answer. Shaking her head, Buffy turned back to the others. "Faith, Angel and I will be outside with everyone else," she continued, her eyes skipping over to the others. "Faith, you and I won't be affected by all of the magic that's going to be flying around, and Angel, since you're already dead we don't have to worry about you getting taken out by a killing curse. Focus on the dark creatures but help out wherever you're needed," she stated, her eyes meeting each in turn before turning back to Dumbledore.

But before the headmaster could continue, Willow quickly lifted her hand in a way that was so reminiscent of Hermione Granger that everyone threw yet another startled glance between the two. "What about me and Tara?" the redhead asked timidly, her eyes darting back and forth between Buffy and the headmaster.

At this question, Buffy nodded at Dumbledore who once more took control of the meeting. "Miss Hamsley had been keeping me appraised of her work with you and Miss MacClay," the headmaster returned, watching as the group from Sunnydale straightened at the mention of the fallen watcher. "She spoke a great deal about the power that you both were able to draw upon and control - a power that seems to be magnified when you work together," he continued, smiling softly at the two girls. "And while your magic is very different than our own, I believe that you both are the answer to our dementor problem," he stated as he caught Remus' eyes. "I believe that you should be capable of combining your skills to draw upon the magic that is in the school itself in order to a form a patronus shield to keep the dementors at bay."

While obviously confused as to what a patronus shield or a dementor was, Tara smiled nonetheless and quickly nodded her head. "The m-m-magic is strong here," she stuttered, blushing as she unwillingly brought the attention to herself. "I-i-it's like the Hellmouth, b-but different. It could work."

"Very good then, very good," Dumbledore murmured, eyeing the two girls before nodding quickly to Professor Lupin. "Remus, if you could begin working with them on developing a patronus at once," he stated, waving the professor away as he turned back to the rest of those gathered.

"And me?" Giles asked, voicing his own question as his eyes met with the headmaster's. He had been so focused on everything that they needed to accomplish that he hadn't even realized that they had forgotten to outfit him with a gun while at the Centre. Or maybe it was the fact that he was in the Centre, the place where Buffy had been hidden away from him and tortured for so long that had him so prone to distraction. Shaking his thoughts away, Giles forced himself to focus, his eyes meeting with Dumbledore's.

"I thought that you would be most useful to us on the grounds," Dumbledore returned, shrugging his aged shoulders as he smiled at the surprised man. "After all, as memory serves me well, such a place would be expected of the brightest student in his Ravenclaw class," he added as he withdrew a long, narrow box from his robes.

Paling noticeably, Giles stared at the box for a moment before accepting the proffered gift with trembling hands. He may not have seen a box of this type in over thirty years, but Giles would recognize it anywhere. Just because his wand had been broken before his eyes, that didn't dispel the magic that he harbored within himself. Instead, his magic had been forced to lie within, dormant but never growing dusty with disuse. As Giles lifted the lid from the box, his eyes fell upon a long, thin shaft of wood - a wood that glimmered in the torch light. Sighing, he gently reached into the box, and as his fingers wrapped around the smooth column of wood, a soft glow enveloped them both before slowly dying away. And in that moment, it felt as though he had never been separated from his wand nor from the magical education that he had greedily drunk in for seven years. It was a little bit like riding a bike, for Giles was certain that he had forgotten nothing.

"Ollivander sent that with his best wishes," the headmaster continued, smiling softly as the man's small slayer beamed at him. But as quickly as it had come, the aged wizard's joy was already disappearing under the knowledge of what they were about to face. "As we have learned and as we have already stated, we cannot be sure of the loyalties of the Ministry - we cannot even be sure of which officials are working under their own will or not," he added, his expression grim. "We are about to make a final stand against Lord Voldemort and we will be doing so without Ministry or Auror support. And if the castle falls, all of the wizarding world will be lost," he stated, a hush falling over the room at his proclamation. "Miss Weasley will be sending for the rest of the Order who is not already gathered here, and even though the barriers will be down, they will still be forced to apparate to a point beyond the school grounds. It is a delay that cannot be helped, and until reinforcements arrive, we are the sole front that will stand against the darkness. Everyone will fight," he murmured, his eyes drawing around the room and landing on each individual in turn. "Including the students," he added as his eyes drifted past Hermione and Ron before finally landing on Harry Potter. "And Voldemort must be taken out at all costs," he stated, his voice heavy as he and Harry locked eyes a moment before the boy finally nodded. He understood.

Unfortunately, in that moment Harry and Dumbledore weren't the only ones to understand, for even as Dumbledore drew the meeting to a close and the others began to drift back towards the other room, Sirius remained rooted to his spot on the floor. He had caught the silent message that the old wizard had passed to his godson - he had caught the message and he finally understood. As a feeling of deep cold crept over his body, Sirius watched through hooded eyes as his godson moved to the young slayer's side, twin smiles exchanged as the girl reintroduced him to her friends. And even as they all shared smiles and the sounds of their laughter reached him, Sirius couldn't get past his sudden knowledge.

"Sirius?"

Ignoring Remus' questioning hand, Sirius closed the distance between him and his godson, his large hand landing on the teen's shoulder as he quietly drew him away from his friends. "Harry, I need to talk to you," he murmured, pulling him into a far corner until they stood alone, his back hunched and away from the prying eyes of the others until he felt as though he was alone in this room with his beloved godson. With James and Lily's only son - the boy that he had sworn to take care of and protect. A promise that he had been unable to fulfill for far too long.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, reading his godfather far too easily as his green eyes peered into Sirius' blue.

"I..." Sirius murmured, his heart clenching within his chest as his eyes truly took in the boy that stood before him. More like the man. "God, where has the time gone?" he asked, not even realizing that he had voiced his question aloud. It was so obvious now that it hurt to see how Harry was no longer the boy that he had been when they had first met all of those years ago. While still a few inches shorter than Sirius, he no longer had to look so far down to meet his godson's eyes, and when did his shoulders get so broad? When did the baby fat leave his face so that the hard, square lines of his jaw were so prominent? When did he get so old?

"Sirius?" Harry persisted, a small frown pulling at his lips.

"I... I want you to stay close when the fighting starts," he murmured, his voice rough as his hands lifted to grip his godson's shoulders in a hold so tight that it must have been painful. "You need to stay by my side and... and I won't let you get hurt. Nothing will hurt you," he stated, his voice beginning to shake as his eyes bore into Harry's green. "I won't let _him_ touch you," he vowed, his voice coming out as a growl.

And for a moment, Harry could only stand in silence as Sirius began to shake before him. He recognized his godfather's words for what they were - a plea for Harry to assure him that it wouldn't come down to what they always knew it would. "Sirius, I have to-"

"You're just a child!" Sirius interrupted, a fierce scowl twisting his handsome features. "You're just a child and no one expects you to be anything else," he stated before he crushed his godson against him, holding him as though he was afraid that he would disappear at any moment. "I don't want you to try and be anything but Harry. Promise me that you'll just be Harry."

Sighing, Harry allowed himself the small comfort of Sirius' embrace as he struggled with the words he wanted to say. He wanted to argue with his godfather - he wanted to make him understand. But Harry knew it was pointless for no matter what he said, he would never understand, for understanding meant accepting the fact that he _was_ just being Harry. This was who he was, who he was born to be, and who he was meant to be. When he did what he had to do, he wasn't being anything but Harry Potter. He wasn't being anything but Harry because Harry was all that was needed. He wasn't capable of being anything else and he had to hope that in the end, Harry would be enough... even though he refused to acknowledge the part of him that whispered that not even Harry was going to be enough to bring Voldemort down in the coming battle. Even if Voldemort had given Harry a part of himself - a part of his magic sixteen years ago... the fact remained that a part of Voldemort's power was still insignificant when compared to the whole of the power that he'd be facing.

Harry wrapped his long arms around Sirius and returned his hug. "I promise," he whispered, knowing that this was one promise that he could keep. "I promise to only be Harry," he returned as he quietly said his goodbye.


	28. Chapter 28

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 28  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy."**  
-Nicholas Sparks-

In the end, the only thing left for the group to do was wait. Every preparation that could possibly be made had been made as the residents of Hogwarts prepared themselves for war. The smallest of children had been tightly bundled despite the warmth of the June night and sat dozing on small cots that Dumbledore had conjured for them in the corner of the Great Hall. Ginny Weasley was handed enough floo powder to see them all to safety as well as a parchment with the many names of those that she would try to contact, and the rest of the students and adults changed into dark robes and began preparing the hexes and curses that would keep them safe. Even Madam Pomfrey, with the assistance of a few hearty wizards, had transported practically the entire infirmary to the Great Hall, Professor Snape working alongside her to prepare enough potions and magical antidotes to see them through the injuries that their side would inevitably sustain. Within a few hours both Tara and Willow, with Remus' help, had mastered the art of the patronus - an act that surprised practically everyone and impressed upon them the different kind of strength to be found in the wiccan magic and the heady power that encompassed the school. And throughout it all, the people moved as though they were merely waiting for the other shoe to drop, the minutes and hours slipping by as the light of day drew ever closer.

They were now flush in the witching hours, and while the witches and wizards began to droop, despite the rush of adrenaline, Buffy and her friends from the states were in their element. Buffy was used to being up in the wee hours of the morning and for the others... well, it may have been four in the morning for the people of Hogwarts, but for her friends it was only 10pm and they were ready to party.

"So you weren't kidding when you said this place is straight out of the stone age," Xander commented as he continued to impress... well, anyone he could as he rapidly dismantled his rifle and then put it back together again as quickly as possible, further evidence of his lingering memories of being a soldier on that enchanted Halloween a few years back.

"Beat your record by at least twenty grains of sand that time," Oz commented as he glanced up from the miniature hour glass that Hermione had conjured for him.

"And dead-boy said I was slipping," Xander said, shooting Angel a dirty look before turning back to his new toy.

"I told you not to call me that," Angel returned, throwing the teen his own patented dark glare as he turned his attention to the sword that was balanced in his lap, a whetting stone honing the blade's edge to the sharpest of points.

"Yeah, you've been telling me that for how long and has it ever worked, once?" Xander quipped as Buffy smacked him on the back of the head.

"Quit bating Angel," she admonished as she plopped on the stone floor amongst her friends, and beside a certain dark-haired wizard. Ever since the big meeting she had been immersed in talks of strategy with Giles and a few others, ensuring that everyone knew where they were supposed to go and what they were supposed to do when the battle began. In a way, it all reminded her of the preparations that they had made for the assault on the mayor on the day of their graduation. Only, instead of frightened high schoolers, this time they were armed with capable and deadly witches and wizards who would be facing far more than a few vampires. "You're just trying to get him to go all 'grrr' and freak people out," she added, watching as Xander pouted at her for the briefest of moments for spoiling his plan before shrugging and turning his attention to the three teens that had joined them - all dressed in weird looking black robes.

"So you guys really do the Bewitched thing and go all zoomy in the clouds with the toy broom set?" he asked, eyeing the Hogwarts' group with open curiosity. "And do you wear the pointy hats, too?"

"Only on special occasions," Buffy broke in, smiling wryly at the group's evident confusion. "And Xander, what did I tell you about the pop culture references? Just try to pretend that you're speaking with a much younger, more fun, and definitely cuter version of Giles," she advised as she snuggled against Harry's side.

"And here I thought trying to understand Buffy had been difficult," Hermione muttered, sharing bemused glances with her friends as Giles swatted Buffy on the head with a rolled scroll as he passed her by, evidently having overheard her remark.

"Hey," Buffy protested as she shot her departing watcher a withering look. "See what I get for my wit?" she asked, pouting slightly as she turned a bright grin to Harry who could only shake his head at her antics.

"Are you guys always like this right before a battle?" he asked as he waved at Willow and Tara who were engaged in conversation with Ginny and Neville, the four teens talking animatedly about spells, charms, and oddly enough, blowing things up. Actually, it seemed as though Buffy's friend, Willow, and Neville seemed to be sharing their woes the most over that one while Tara and Ginny watched with matching smiles. Then turning, he indicated the green-haired boy who was, once again, timing Xander in the dismantling of his muggle weapon while Ron interrupted with the occasional question on how Oz got his hair to _stop_ being green when he so wanted - something to do with a prank the twins had pulled on Ron years ago that had caused his hair to remain a very similar shade for weeks. Meanwhile, Hermione had turned her attentions to Angel as she asked him very pointed and curious questions about what it meant to be a vampire and of the things he had seen in his past two hundred and some odd years - the eternal student, of course.

Following his casual waves, Buffy smiled warmly at her friends and grinned unabashedly at the dark haired teen beside her. "Pretty much," she said, nodding slowly as she critically eyed the group. "Although we seem to have less doughnuts," she admitted as she jerked a thumb at Xander. "And too many cool new toys... although there was that time when Xander found me a rocket launcher," she added as a fond smile lifted her lips at the memory. "It was all whoosh and then big kabloom."

Snickering, Harry was about to comment further when the tall and curvy girl - Cordelia, if he remembered correctly - settled on the floor beside them in a huff of frustration. Curious, he watched as she fixed Buffy with a withering glare, practically glowering as she seethed beside them.

"Some woman in a painting said that my lipstick made me look like a harlot," she stated harshly, her eyes narrowing even more as Buffy tried to hide a snicker. "I mean, can you believe the nerve?" she asked crossly as she snagged a small mirror from her tight pant pocket and flipped it open, inspecting aforementioned lipstick. "This is the latest shade in the collection! _Everyone_ is wearing it in LA-"

"Well, if you haven't noticed, Cordy, this ain't LA," Buffy interrupted dryly as she rolled her eyes at Harry.

"Oh, don't think I haven't noticed," Cordelia returned as she arched a slim brow as an older witch in bright magenta robes shuffled past. "It's a miracle that your already withering fashion sense hasn't completely curdled when surrounded by _this_ for so long," she muttered as she jerked a thumb at the people that surrounded them - many of whom were shooting the oblivious girl some rather dirty looks.

"Cordy, I think-"

"And calling my lipstick slutty?" Cordelia interrupted, her tone incredulous as she glared at the offending portrait, obviously scandalized by the taunt. "I mean, has anyone even bothered to notice the stuff that Faith is wearing? Hello? Can we say 'where's my street corner?'" she asked, by now gathering the attention of pretty much every muggle and wizard in the area - including that of the slayer in question.

"Uh, Cordy, I don't think," Buffy began, nervously eyeing her fellow slayer as Faith began stalking towards them, which was, of course, when all hell proceeded to break loose. It all began quite innocently enough as Cordelia's bitter retort was cut off and replaced with a pain-filled moan. "Cordelia?" Buffy asked, confusion warring with concern as she scuttled on all fours to where the girl was sitting, suddenly thankful that the ex-cheerleader was already sitting down. "Hey, you al-" she broke off as Cordelia's piercing scream broke through every conversation in the room.

"Cordy!" Angel cried out as he dropped his forgotten sword and moved beside Buffy, both slayer and vampire moving in tandem as they caught the girl between them, her body beginning to shake and her eyes squeezed tight against something as tears of pain began to drip from her lashes.

"Cordelia!" Wesley shouted, adding to the mayhem as he pushed his way through the gathering wizards and witches and knelt by the seer's side. "Another vision," he stated, his voice grim as Angel nodded quietly, their eyes meeting briefly before returning to their friend.

"A vision?" Buffy asked, moving back to allow Angel and Wesley more room. "This is what happens when she receives visions from those Powers of yours?" she continued, unable to keep the small note of accusation from her voice. Incredulous, Buffy began to take back every single nasty thing she had ever said about the Queen Bitch of old as she took in the incredible pain that tormented Cordelia. No one deserved this kind of pain.

"Oh, you get kind of used to it - not," Cordy's weak voice ground out as the two men quickly helped her to sit once more, the heel of her hand pressed against her pounding head.

"What did you see?" Angel asked, all business and idly aware that the mediwitch, Madam Pomfrey, was already beside them and trying to force a lime green potion down Cordelia's throat.

It only took one look at the girl's hand pressed so firmly against her head for the mediwitch to be reminded of the headaches that always plagued the Potter boy following his own tormenting visions. Therefore, the remedy was easily found in this case. "Drink this, it will help with the pain," Poppy ordered as the girl reluctantly took her hand away long enough to down the potion, a grimace pulling at her features as her body shuddered in response. And then, almost instantly her shudders stopped and her hand fully drew away, eyes clear and free of pain. "At least my remedies can help _some_ people," she muttered, crossly shooting the blonde slayer a dirty look before stepping back.

Oblivious to everything, Cordelia could only focus on the fact that she felt fine. Well, better than fine, really. Her head felt clear and it didn't feel as though it was about to split open at the seams, and for the first time, Cordelia truly began to appreciate what all of the noise was about when it came to this magic crap. That little sip of nasty green goo did the work of thirty Tylenols without even sending her to the hospital. "Hey, where can I get some of that?" she asked as she accepted Angel and Wesley's hands, allowing them to pull her to her feet.

"Later," Buffy cut in as she ignored Madam Pomfrey's pointed glare. Even as the press of people became tighter around them, Buffy knew that they no longer had time for such pettiness, for deep down, the slayer was beginning to think that she already knew what the seer had seen. And by the looks that Angel was throwing her way, he knew it as well. "Cordy, what did you see?" she asked, repeating her question slowly as the girl finally turned her brown eyes towards her.

Sighing as though annoyed by Buffy's persistent questioning, Cordy quickly closed her eyes as the images filtered through her mind's eye. "People - hundreds of them - all dressed in black robes and working some nasty voodoo at the edge of a forest in a big circle around the castle," she related, her voice clipped as she opened her eyes and met Buffy's evenly. "Tall, skeletal things dressed in black drawn together in a mass at the gates of the school - they're cold and the people stay away from them," she continued, her eyes slipping shut once more as she thought back to all that she had seen. "Demons too - lots of them and... and I think I saw your Big Bad," she added, her eyes growing haunted.

"Big guy? Kind of snakey? Red eyes and desperately in need of a tan?" Buffy asked as she sensed, more than saw Harry step beside her, his eyes as fixed on the seer as her own.

"That'd be him," Cordelia agreed before stepping closer to the two. "And you guys were with him - dark place, water... snakes that were still... not moving," she murmured, her words a mere whisper that was meant only for them both.

"And this is what's going to happen?" Harry asked, somehow believing that this girl was the real deal. Not just a Trelawney that made a habit of predicting his death every year, but someone who really saw what was to come. Who was really granted a vision of the future.

"Already happening," Cordelia corrected as Dumbledore's magically amplified voice split through the muffled noise of the Great Hall.

"It has begun," he stated, his voice ringing off of the stone as the room quickly burst into action. "I need all of the younger children to move towards the fireplace at once," he added before his voice fell silent, his head turning and he seemed to be staring off into the distance before his eyes snapped once more back to those gathered. "We have five minutes - no longer," he added as the bustle magnified.

"Ginny, you have the floo powder?" Molly Weasley asked as she grabbed her youngest child by the shoulders and spun her around until they were face to face.

"Y-yes, Mum," Ginny responded, her face paling as her brown eyes began flitting around the room, desperately searching for her boyfriend and relieved to see that he was already organizing the children by the fireplace.

"Good dear, now do as Headmaster Dumbledore said," Molly stated, pulling on her daughter's chin until their eyes met. "See to the children's safety and then send word at once."

"But I want to stay with you and Dad," Ginny whispered, tears filling her eyes as her mother quickly crushed her against her ample bosom, holding her tight and wishing that she could never let go.

"I know, my sweets, but you need to do this for us," she whispered, even as a part of her rejoiced at the thought that at least one of her children was being sent far from harm's way - two, if you counted Charlie who was still blissfully with his dragons in Romania. "I love you," she murmured, pressing a fierce kiss against her daughter's temple before pushing her towards the waiting children.

Yet even as Molly Weasley was saying goodbye to her youngest daughter, Buffy was already pushing through the sudden chaos until she was at her watcher's side. "Let's do this," she murmured, nodding to him as he lifted his newly acquired wand and turned in the general direction of the doors to the Great Hall.

"_Accio_ weapons," he stated, his voice ringing slightly as he twirled and flicked his wand just right. And even as his magic did his trick he was already turning back as Xander, Cordelia, Oz and Wesley joined them, their sniper rifles in hand as Willow and Tara trailed behind.

"We're ready," Willow announced as she reached down and gripped her friend's hand, Tara nodding mutely beside her. "Just tell us where we need to be," the redheaded wiccan stated, her resolve face firmly in place. Already she could feel the tickle of the power that surrounded them, the magic in the very air that they breathed, and she could barely contain her excitement at the magic that she was just itching to try and harness.

"Cordelia said that the dementors were all hanging out in front of the gates," Buffy repeated, her eyes ticking to Cordelia as Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined their little group, Angel, Sirius and Remus trailing behind.

"How about the astronomy tower, then?" Hermione suggested, her face flushed. "It's the tallest of the towers and sits towards the front of the school," she pointed out as she lifted her wand with one hand, the other gripping Ron's so tightly that she would have been surprised if he had any feeling left in the appendage at all.

"Works for me," Buffy agreed as she turned to her friends. "Which means that you two are with Xander," she added as Xander beamed at the two girls.

"Every guy's fantasy," Xander confirmed before turning to the watcher. "Ready for our magic keys, G-Man," he added as he cocked his gun for effect, his goofy grin a stark contrast to the serious expressions on the rest of their faces.

"Just be sure that you don't shoot yourself in the foot," Wesley returned dryly as he accepted the small quill that he was handed. "And-" he began before he disappeared with a soft pop, the others quickly following suit.

"If only we could have learned that trick earlier," Buffy sighed, staring wistfully at the spot that Wesley had just recently occupied. "Just think of all of the tedious lectures we could have avoided," she added as a commotion at the doors to the Great Hall drew her attention. Swiveling, she watched as the crowd of witches and wizards parted to allow a large trunk to soar past before depositing itself at Giles' feet. "Oh Giles, you got me weapons!" she chirped, grinning impishly at her watcher even as she was cracking the chest and digging through the various deadly weapons, pocketing knives, stakes, and snagging her favorite sword.

"Ooh, B's got some new toys," Faith added appreciatively as she joined their side, picking through the remainders and adding some of the weapons to her already impressive store - although the way she managed to conceal various daggers beneath the leather halter she wore was a trick that Buffy would have to learn.

"Only the best for this girl," the petite slayer agreed as a sudden rumble shook the foundations of the school itself. Startled, she turned wide green eyes to the flickering candles that wavered in the air above them before turning back to the older wizards that were gathered with them.

"Not long now," Remus whispered, answering the group's unasked question as he, too, lifted his wand, his eyes locking briefly with Sirius. While both Sirius and James had been young aurors during Voldemort's first reign, Remus hadn't been far from the action, and both he and his childhood friend knew only too well the kind of horrors that awaited them. They both also knew that another old friend of theirs would be somewhere outside, blending with the crowd. The only question that remained was how much of his sanity Wormtail had managed to hold onto in his year in Azkaban.

"Then let's get this party started," Buffy muttered as her smile finally disappeared. The humor, the glib comments, and the quips were all an act, anyway. She and her friends had been forced to deal with constant danger and death and destructive mayhem since they were only sophomores in high school - a freshman, in Buffy's case. That was far too young of an age to face the darkness that they did, and she and her friends faced it in the only manner they could. They didn't focus on their fear and instead pushed it under a wave of ill-timed humor. It was the way they always did things, and Buffy had no doubt in her mind that even as Xander and the others began preparing themselves, each, and especially Xander himself, were probably trying to hide their fear beneath some kind of joke. However, too many things had happened for Buffy to maintain that act for too long. The others were gone now and accordingly, Buffy allowed her act to crumble under a fierce wave of determination.

Turning, Buffy locked eyes with Harry as he held his hand out to her. Feeling a small smile break over the hard line of her lips, she interlocked her fingers with his as they turned and began threading their way through the masses and towards the doors to the Great Hall. In moments both Sirius and Giles had fallen into step beside their wards as Ron, Hermione and Remus flanked Harry, and Angel and Faith flanked Buffy. Soon, their steps were matched by the determined movements of the rest of the wizards and witches that had vowed to fight to the last as Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Hagrid and the three crotchety old people fell into step before them. They were an army that was formed under duress - an army formed to see the end of a Dark Lord's reign. And together, they had to hope that they were strong enough to end this, once and for all.

As one the group moved through the Great Hall and gathered in the marble foyer. There was no time for fancy speeches nor for even small words of encouragement. Instead, the people gathered took the brief moment that it took to open the great doors of the foyer to think of their loved ones that had already fallen by Voldemort's hands, or of the ones that they had sent to safety only minutes before. They were the reason that they did this. They were the reason that they were going to fight the darkness and win. Or die trying, for it always came down to that. For in this battle, there could be no surrender.

With a flourish that seemed macabre beneath the tense shroud that cloaked them, the great oak doors swung open to reveal a dark night that was lit by a wash of bright light. A line of Death Eaters drifted as far as the eye could see, lit by their own pinpricks of light as the barrier that guarded Hogwarts trembled beneath their combined might. And before them stood the tall figure that all instantly recognized as Lord Voldemort himself, a legion of dementors surrounding his gaunt frame.

"Bloody hell," Ron mumbled, his eyes growing so wide that Hermione had to elbow him to keep him from hurting himself. Then again, she could understand his dilemma for the sight before them could only be described as awe-inspiring... awe-inspiring in the worst kind of horrible way. And while not the most eloquent way to begin the battle, those were the last two words spoken before the barriers fell and Voldemort's forces rushed forward, swarming across the beautiful grounds.

Immediately, the forces of good took their cue and fled from the halls of Hogwarts in a rush of varied colored robes, moving as one and splitting as the group began to spread and encircle the castle, spells, charms, curses and hexes already lighting the battlefield as small explosions of gas rocked the Death Eater ranks, taking out as many as ten of the robed wizards at a time. "Angel, Faith - with me," Buffy called out as she quickly darted forward, the occasional curse and charm striking her form and doing little to slow her progress as she made a beeline for the front gates and the dementors that were even now swarming forward, the wizards falling back against their cold. And even as the screams of her past began to build up and echo in her ears, Buffy watched as a blinding shield of light soared out over top of them all and descended upon the dementors. A brief smile lifting her lips, Buffy hazarded a quick glance back as her sharp eyesight barely made out the shadowed forms of Willow and Tara standing together atop the highest tower of Hogwarts, their hands clasped and somehow channeling enough of the good stuff to not only keep the dementors at bay, but repelling them as well.

"Strike one for Moldy Wart, check one for the White Hats," Buffy chirped as she casually tripped a running Death Eater and kept him down with an elbow to the back of his neck. "And remember, no killing!" she added as Faith launched a wicked roundhouse at another Death Eater, easily taking the person down.

"Relax B, just getting some payback," Faith retorted as she flashed a bright grin at the blonde. "Some really _good_ payback," she amended as she flattened another Death Eater with a right hook.

"Well how about them? Can we kill them?" Angel asked as he nodded towards the Forbidden Forest where a stream of nasty-looking dark creatures began drifting from the woods.

"Yeah, they're game," Buffy agreed as she lifted her sword and twirled it experimentally.

Grinning, Faith nodded appreciatively. "Now we're talking," she added as she withdrew a couple of daggers from the small of her back. "And just like old times, eh B?" she asked as their small group began advancing on the creatures.

"Mind some company?"

Startled, Buffy turned and found herself face to face with Harry, Ron and Hermione - the two obviously refusing to leave their friend's side. "What about-"

"Less likely to receive a killing curse from a dragon or a vampire - or even a basilisk," Ron replied for his friend as he and Hermione closed the distance between them. "I think that it was their way of trying to keep us out of trouble," he added as he threw a nod behind him.

Curious, Buffy turned and found her eyes lighting on Sirius and Remus as the two battled against the Death Eaters with the other adults - including Giles. Smiling slightly, Buffy found that it was almost beautiful to watch the wizards duel. Beautiful and deadly as they ducked and twirled and cast, bright light fighting the darkness. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she murmured as she flashed a grin at the trio before an annoyed yell from Faith reminded her that Angel and Faith had already engaged the enemy. "Let's go keep them happy," she added as she launched herself forward, soon becoming lost in the fight, Harry never leaving her side.

* * *

The battle was everything that it had promised to be. His allies were falling fast, but the Death Eaters were falling faster. The dark night was fragmented and shattered by the bright lights of flying curses, the night sounds overwhelmed by bellowed spells and the agonizing screams of those whom those spells took out. There was little mercy to be granted by either side and the hits were indiscriminate. People were falling, people were dying, and their numbers were growing smaller. But the enemy was growing smaller still.

"Remus!" Sirius bellowed, his friend heeding his warning and twisting down and out of the way of the Death Eater curse that was fired in his direction, a wave of green death flying over his graying head even as Sirius was retaliating, the power of his spell lifting the enemy and twirling him away into darkness. He and Remus, the last of the Marauders, had never battled like this, side by side - yet they worked together with a speed and efficiency born out of need and out of decades of friendship. They understood each other and therefore understood entire messages that were conveyed in a single call, based on the urgency and the note in whatever single word managed to be uttered.

As time passed the faces of friends and enemies alike twirled by and then disappeared into the darkness. He was sure that he had caught sight of Dumbledore battling against a horde of Death Eaters, taking on so many that he was a single point of light in a sea of dark robes. Yet despite his age, his movements were effortless and his true power made those that faced him quake in their coward's masks. Likewise, he had caught the odd glimpse of Arthur and Molly, always side by side and usually accompanied by one or more of their children even as Moody, Fletcher, and Arabella moved with a grace that defied their age. It was a battle that called upon their skills of old and the aches and pains that were gained with time were forgotten beneath the desperate need to survive and conquer in this battle. At one point, Sirius had even found himself working back to back with Severus Snape, their old hatreds forgotten as they worked to oppose those that threatened to overwhelm their numbers.

"Sirius!"

Grunting, Sirius dove to the ground as the heat of the curse seared his skin, missing him by inches. But he wasn't so lucky as to avoid the next curse as another Death Eater took advantage of the first's distraction.

"_Crucio!_"

Unable to prevent his screams of agony from escaping him, Sirius felt his world disappear under a haze of blinding pain. Even as his muscles tensed and pulled tight, feeling as though they were ripping and shredding and sending liquid fire through his system, Sirius found his hazy thoughts find focus on Harry. He had to get through this for Harry for he knew that he was all that Harry had left when it came to family. He needed to survive this battle for Harry or else his death might destroy what was left of his godson. He had to survive this for Harry and fulfill his promise to James and Lily. With that thought, Sirius rode out the pain until it came to a blessed release, the haze clearing from his vision until he was staring up into the worried gray eyes of his last remaining friend. Confused, Sirius slowly struggled to sit, ignoring his protesting muscles as his eyes found his tormentor lying in a heap before him, a small silver dart protruding from his shoulder. Sighing, his eyes drifted to the tall towers that housed the slayer's friends and threw a thankful nod in their direction before returning his attention to his old friend.

"Are you fit?" Remus asked, not even bothering with the usual worries and questions for both knew that Sirius was not fine. Then again, such a small thing as being hit with the Cruciatus Curse wasn't enough to warrant him heading into the castle for medical aid. There was far too much riding on this battle and instead the real question was if he truly was fit. Fit to continue fighting.

"Good to go," he muttered as his friend pulled him to his feet, handing him his forgotten wand and turning away even as he did so. There was no time for niceties and for the desire to reassure each other of their health. There was no time for anything but the battle that continued to be waged around them. Besides, it wasn't the first time that Sirius had ever endured the hated unforgivable curse, and he also knew that it wouldn't be the last - probably wouldn't even be the last time that night.

Shrugging his thoughts away, Sirius quickly returned to the battle, freeing his mind and allowing only the fight to remain... until he saw his friend stiffen, shoulders tensing as gray eyes turned sharply to the side. "Remus?" he asked, moving over fallen bodies until he was at his friend's side, his eyes warily following Remus' gaze until they fell upon a single Death Eater. With narrowed eyes, he noted that this man was shorter than the others, fatter too, with a hand that was encased in silver and glittering in the moonlight, causing death and mayhem with an ease that was sickening. "Wormtail," he muttered, knowing instantly what had caught his friend's attention.

As one, the two friends fell into step together and began advancing on the single Death Eater, oblivious of their presence until it was far too late. "Peter," Remus called out, his voice hard and unforgiving as the fat man spun in their directions, familiar and watery eyes meeting theirs from beneath the hood that he wore.

And even as their old friend and betrayer was lifting his wand towards them, Sirius and Remus both were already calling upon their own magic. For the first time in his life, Sirius felt the desire to call upon the Unforgivables and the need to end this once and for all. Years ago Harry had begged for mercy on the behalf of the man that had killed his parents, not wanting for Remus and Sirius to become killers like the man that had ruined the lives of so many. And even though that placed Peter in the position of owing Harry a wizard's debt, that did nothing to stop the rat from arranging the kidnapping of Harry and helping to draw Harry's blood in an act that enabled the rebirth of Voldemort. Peter's role in the death and mayhem that had followed was significant, and now, Sirius wasn't so sure if Harry would be so willing to grant mercy. Then again, could he really take that chance?

With that thought in mind, Sirius changed his mind at the last moment and called out the full-body bind even as his friend tried to disarm the traitor, the two spells merging and creating a completely unanticipated effect. Grinning despite himself, Sirius carefully stepped forward and eyed the sight before him with open amusement. "Well, didn't quite see that one coming," he murmured as he jabbed the end of his wand into Wormtail's frozen cheek, sniggering as the small movement caused the form, frozen in the act of being disarmed, to topple for a moment before crashing back on the ground.

"Serves him right," Remus muttered as Peter's eyes glared at them from his frozen state. "Although I dare say he seems a bit upset with us... and a tad singed," he added, a grin threatening to pull at his own lips. "Rather remarkable, really," he added, turning back to his friend and shrugging slightly. "Oh well, then, shall we?" he asked as he nodded back towards the battle. And after receiving an affirmative nod, the werewolf disappeared in a flare of his worn robes.

Sighing, Sirius allowed himself one more pleasurable glance at Wormtail's frozen form before he found his eyes turning to a different battle that was being waged far away from their own, near the borders of the Forbidden Forest. The two slayers and the vampire moved with a speed and deadly accuracy that was terrifying to watch as they wreaked havoc upon the dark creatures that swarmed from the woods. And amongst them Sirius could just make out the familiar forms of his godson and his two best friends, the light from their cast spells illuminating them in the darkness. He hadn't wanted to send Harry away from his side, but Remus had a point for the children were far safer in the company of the slayers and the vampire then amongst the Death Eaters that milled around them. Sirius probably would have gotten himself killed already had he been fighting alongside his godson. His best friend knew him too well as they both knew that Sirius would have focused his attention to his godson's welfare the entire fight - an act that would have ultimately cost them both. Even now, he was endangering himself by allowing this small measure of relief - of assurance. Harry had to be okay because otherwise... otherwise Sirius wasn't sure if he could survive it.

Shaking his head, the tall man quickly turned his eyes back to the battle. It seemed as though in his distraction Remus had gained a new fighting partner in the form of the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts. Knowing then that his friend's back would be protected, Sirius' gaze fell upon another form, fighting alone and terribly outnumbered. Grinning roguishly he hurried towards his new companion. He knew that Harry's slayer would have his hide, again, if he allowed anything to happen to her beloved watcher. So, he would just have to make sure that the older man kept himself out of trouble... or vice versus, he realized as Giles downed a Death Eater that had been stalking Sirius' back. Nodding in thanks, Sirius allowed himself one last longing glance to his godson before throwing himself into battle.


	29. Chapter 29

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 29  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"Now take my hand and hold it tight. I will not fail you here tonight. For failing you, I fail myself and place my soul upon a shelf in Hell's library without light. I will not fail you here tonight."**  
-The Book of Counted Sorrows-

Duck. Twirl. Kick. Punch. Slash. Duck. Jump. Hit. Gouge. Flip.

Her moves were flawless and powerful as Buffy moved unlike she had ever moved before. Perhaps it was the months that she had spent patrolling the Forbidden Forest, filling her nightly slay quotient in an environment that was far more hostile than the usual graveyard that she had grown up with. Or maybe it was the feeling that this was the fight of her life. Whatever the case, Buffy moved with a skill and grace that seemed inhuman. That night, she was all Slayer.

Grunting, Buffy ducked the creature's awkward attack, its pointed claws glancing off the blade of her sword as she bent low and pivoted on her ankle, twisting and thrusting the blade behind her. And even as the sword sunk home in the creature's chest cavity, she was already using her other hand to snatch a dagger from the strap on her ankle and throwing it, the blade sinking into the neck of the hound that was about to spring on Angel's unguarded back. Nodding to Angel's look of thanks she quickly turned back and pulled her sword free, ducking beneath the strong arms of a vampire and then spinning in a high kick that connected with its neck. And even as she was regaining her step after the kick, the obviously inexperienced vamp was already turning to ash as she thanked Giles once more for the steel-toed docs that were doing wonders for her neck-breaking skills.

"Buffy, behind you!"

Heeding Faith's grunted warning, Buffy was already lifting her blade and turning, her eyes locking on the claw that was descending too quickly towards her face. She had been distracted and this was a fate that she couldn't thwart - couldn't avoid. But luckily, she wasn't battling alone this night, a fact which became apparent as Hermione stepped into view.

"_Stupefy!_" the young witch called out, stopping the demon's attack even as she was turning to send another curse towards the creature that seemed to be gaining the upper hand in a battle against the other slayer. In a way, the auburn-haired girl knew that the battle she fought was far easier than the one that the rest of her comrades were engaged upon. Here, in this cloistered area where she fought alongside her best friends, two slayers and a vampire against the dark creatures that Voldemort commanded, she was able to cast as quickly as possible with little worries to precision. If a few of her curses missed her target and struck either of the slayers on accident... well, it certainly wasn't as dire as had it been with the rest of the wizards and witches. There, a misfired spell could cause death in a friend. In this battle, speed and not accuracy was what counted, and fortunately, she, Ron, and Harry were three of the quickest castors at Hogwarts.

"I think that was Malfoy... it was!"

Startled, Hermione turned away from the fight long enough to roll her eyes as Ron practically danced a jig a few dozen meters away. "Seriously, Ron, can't you see that we're in the middle of a battle?" she called out, her voice cross.

"But one of those muggle darts just took down Malfoy!" he yelled, his grin stretching even wider and freezing on his face as his eyes widened in terror. "DOWN!" he roared, his wand already lifting and a muttered spell falling from his lips as his girlfriend obeyed his command without hesitation. Which was fortunate, for even the smallest of hesitations would have meant her death as the hellish creature behind her lost his prey and was downed by Ron's spell only seconds later.

"Hey, you okay?" Faith asked as she paused in her fight long enough to pull the girl back to her feet.

"Y-yes, I'm fine, thank you," Hermione murmured, her face paler than before as she turned back to her boyfriend, unable to even thank him as he was already casting more spells as they spoke. "And you?"

"Five by five," Faith returned, a bright grin lifting her painted lips as she turned and flipped backwards, her hand slashing out as she was mid-air and gutting something that looked strangely like a koala bear. An eight-foot tall koala bear with crooked teeth and nasty breath... and that wasn't even mentioning the spikes.

"Hey, less talk, more kill!" Buffy called out, admonishing the two as her sword cut a long slice through her opponent, unleashing a torrent of hot, red blood that she quickly danced around. "Remember? Fight to the death going on?" she asked as she knocked her elbow into the soft opening at the base of the creature that staggered towards her, already reeling from a blow from Angel.

"Since when did you get all work no play?" Faith grumbled as she obligingly took out another something nasty.

"Since I got all the play tortured out of me a few months back," Buffy retorted, a small grin belying the heaviness of her words. "But don't worry, I'm getting it back," she added as she took a couple of steps back and then rushed forward in a beautiful spinning kick that connected with the back of the head of Harry's opponent.

"I did catch them in a furious snogging session earlier today," Ron called out helpfully as he tried to remember the words to the spell that would cause Angel's dragon to lose its fiery breath. "Duh, _congelo spiritus_," Ron called as he flicked his wand, instantly causing the dragon to emit a non-threatening puff of cold smoke.

"Snogging?" Faith grunted as she joined Angel in his duel against the dragon.

"Oh, we made out already!" Buffy griped, her voice carrying to her friends as she finished off her opponent, only to find that there wasn't another one rushing in to take its place. Gasping as she tried to regain her breath, Buffy lowered her sword as her eyes swept over the grassy grounds. "Well, what do you know," she murmured as Harry quietly joined her.

"I think we may be winning this," Harry added, echoing her quiet shock as his green eyes drifted around them. Hermione and Ron had moved over to help Angel and Faith with the persistent dragon, while the woods and the grounds immediately around them lay silent. Impossible as it seemed, it looked as though the group had somehow managed to work their way through the mess of dark creatures that had assaulted them with little evidence of damage on their end save for the occasional bloody wound. Those that hadn't been slayed or stunned or incapacitated in some other way by the deadly team had fled, leaving their battle virtually finished. And even better was the sight of the adults as they continued in a battle that was obviously going well for their side. Actually, going well seemed an understatement as the Death Eaters continued to drop like flies, brought down by curses, spells, and even more darts. The tranquilizer darts and other muggle weapons had been a brilliant move by Buffy and her friends, and a move that had most likely turned the tide against the Dark Lord. In his hatred of muggle-borns and all things muggle, the Dark Lord had ignored a very real threat - a threat that had caused their side to take the upper hand. And when added to the fact that he recognized more than a few strangers fighting with the other castle inhabitants, it was evident that Ginny and Neville had succeeded in their mission and the reinforcements had arrived. "We may actually win this," he muttered, unable to quite believe his eyes.

"This battle, perhaps."

Startled, both teens quickly turned as Buffy moved before Harry, her sword raising once more as her eyes locked with Voldemort's. "Well, if it ain't old Moldy Wart himself," she muttered, just loud enough to be certain that the Dark Lord heard her taunt.

Ignoring the girl, Voldemort's eyes instead slid past her until they locked with the green eyes of one Harry Potter. "But you know as well as I that it will never be over as long as I still roam this world."

"And you're never going to win while I'm still breathing," Harry returned, his eyes narrowing.

Smiling shrewdly, Voldemort nodded his head as his red, slitted eyes took in the boy before him. No, not a boy any longer. The eyes that stared back at him were the eyes of a man. They were the eyes of the woman who had foolishly died to save him, set in the face of the man that he had killed. "Then it seems as though we are at an impasse, of sorts."

"So it seems," Harry agreed as he marveled at the fact that he was casually bantering with Voldemort, of all people. Buffy must have rubbed off on him more than even he had imagined. "Then again, we both knew that it would always come down to this."

Nodding thoughtfully, Voldemort's eyes slowly drifted past the children and to the battle that was raging around them. Their friends were almost finished with his dragon and his minions in the grasses beyond wouldn't last much longer before they surrendered. The battle was lost to him this night, and it was a bitter defeat for the Dark Lord. Then again, he had been counting on his attack on the Hellmouth to drive the slayer from the equation. It seemed that he had underestimated the child, for instead of driving her away, he drove her to bring in more of her kind... but perhaps not all was in vain. For if he could secure the death of the boy before him, as well as that of the slayer, the morale of the wizarding world would still be crushed and the next time he returned to Hogwarts, there would be little resistance and the school would fall. And with it, the rest of the wizarding world. The rest of the world. But even as the Dark Lord realized this, his eyes also fell upon the familiar figure of Sirius Black. In that moment, despite the distance that separated them, their eyes locked and the Dark Lord knew that his time was short indeed. As he turned back to the children he watched as Sirius alerted another man, a wizard that dressed as a muggle, and together the two began racing towards them. "Then I suggest that we take this somewhere a bit more private," he stated, his cold voice hissed between thin lips. "In the place where it all began it shall be ended," he added before disappearing without a breath of warning.

"Hey, no fair! He had a portkey!" Buffy grumbled, a dark glare twisting her pretty features. "And where did he go? What was he talking about?" she asked, turning back to Harry who continued to watch the darkness with tired eyes.

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted with a small shrug. "He could mean Godric's Hollow, the place where he killed my parents," he stated before slowly shaking his head. "But I've never been there before and have no idea how to... the Chamber of Secrets," he muttered, interrupting his own musings as the answer hit him with a flash of understanding. Cordelia had said it herself. She foretold of him meeting with Voldemort in a place of water and snakes. "He wants me to go to the Chamber of Secrets, and I have to go," he added as his eyes drifted past Buffy to where Sirius and Giles were frantically making their way towards them. "I have to do this or it will never be over."

"Harry!"  
"Are you guys alright?"  
"That was Moldy Ass, wasn't it?"  
"Buffy, are you alright?"

"Then let's do this," Buffy returned casually as she finished the distance between them and placed her hand on his cheek, ignoring the calls of their friends as they encircled the two.

"Do what?"  
"What are you guys talking about?"  
"Here comes Sirius and Giles."

"Buffy, I can't-" Harry began, only to be interrupted by a finger against his lips.

"Hey, I promised you that you weren't going to do this alone, and I never break my promises... usually," she amended with a small smile as their circle tightened around them. "Besides, you know as well as I that this is the way it's supposed to be. Everything up until now has been leading up to this moment. Why else would you have learned your new trick right when you did?" she asked, smiling coyly at him. "Because I don't know if you've noticed, but we're about to get company and I know as well as you that there's no way Sirius is going to let you go. So just do your mojo and get us out of here."

"Stop it!"  
"Would you listen to us? What's going on?"  
"Hey B, there's some weird shit in the air - I can feel-"  
"Buffy, don't-"

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, ignoring the confused and babbled words as he gently reached down and cupped her chin in his hand, feeling as Buffy's energy began to crackle.

"More than I've ever been about anything else," Buffy returned, answering more than that one question as she reached up and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Now go," she murmured as she pulled away and held her sword between them, closing her eyes as she opened herself to him. And then, not a moment later, they were gone with a loud crack while a dead silence fell in their wake.

Amidst frantic cries for both Harry and Buffy, Sirius and Giles arrived in time to see the two teens disappear before their eyes, leaving a mass of confusion behind. "Where did they get a portkey?" Sirius demanded furiously, his eyes frantically taking in each of the group in turn. Ron was on the verge of absolute panic while Hermione stared at the spot where the two had been standing in a state of shock. Beside her, the vampire was grim while the other slayer seemed puzzled. "Did Vol-"

"It wasn't a portkey," Hermione muttered, slowly lifting wide eyes to the two men. "They... they apparated."

"But that's impossible," Giles cut in, shaking his head curtly as he dismissed the girl's words as he turned and surveyed the dark night, as if searching for his missing slayer. "Even with the protective barriers down, apparition on the grounds of Hogwarts is still impossible, as well as the fact that wizarding magic can't affect Buffy."

"Giles," Faith broke in, her voice sharp and instantly catching the watcher's attention. "I don't know shit about this magic stuff, but there was something weird going on between B and her guy," she stated, her words clipped. "I was sensing some pretty wack stuff that started with B and then moved to Harry, and then they were gone."

Confused, Giles could only stare at them for a moment longer before turning to Sirius with wide eyes. "Then where have they gone?"

* * *

If Buffy thought that travel by portkey was disorienting, that method had nothing on the art of apparition. To have your eyes and senses accustomed to one place and then in a blink of an eye to have all of that turned upside down and replaced by something new was severely disorienting. Yet the luxury of recovery was one that was lost to her and Harry, and as soon as the world stopped spinning Buffy was already swiveling away from him and raising her sword before her, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. "Where are we?" she asked, taking in the snake statues that seemed to move of their own accord in the dancing light of the torches, their stone forms trailing behind them and ending in a heavy metal door that was sealed to the outside world. Before them the narrow corridor opened into a wide, shallow pool of water, a massive face carved out of the wall of stone before them.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Harry replied, his voice grim as his eyes drifted to the spot a few meters before them, right before the water's edge. It was the place where he had almost died thanks to the venom of the basilisk that he had fought and killed. He supposed that he should have been grateful that the body of the basilisk was gone. Instead, Voldemort stood in its place - a whole new and much more deadly variety of the snake that had almost claimed his life.

Red eyes sparkling, Voldemort casually lifted his hands and began to clap them together. "Tandem apparition," he stated, his voice quiet and yet still managing to cast an echo as his eyes narrowed on the two. "I'm slightly impressed," he added as he slowly lifted his wand, his eyes mocking the glinting edge of the sword that the slayer twirled before her. "I thought perhaps that your Gryffindor bravery would fail you and that you would not come."

"Oh, I don't think either of us was going to miss this for the world," Buffy retorted as she straightened to her full five feet and some scant odd inches.

"So I noticed," the Dark Lord replied, "even though the invitation was for one. A problem that I can remedy," he added, as he locked eyes with the boy that stood behind her. "_Avada Kedavra_!" he hissed, watching as the boy tensed but refused to move, refused to act as the killing wave of green light flew forward and slammed into the small girl - the small girl that stepped back with the force of the curse before narrowing her green eyes at him.

"Gee, did I ruin your killing thingie?" she asked as she flashed a sickeningly sweet smile at him. "I guess that we slayers are just more resilient than that," she added before taking a pointed step the side, finally moving clear of Harry just as he lifted his wand before him.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried out, the disarming spell striking home and sending Voldemort flying back until he landed in the water that sat before the giant statue's mouth, a wave of the putrid smelling liquid parting to either side. But he didn't have time to congratulate himself as Voldemort never once lost his wand. Instead, the Dark Lord was on his feet and moving before Harry could summon the strength for another spell.

"_Accio_ wand!" he ordered, his flat voice echoing in the massive chamber as Harry's wand was torn from his fingers and flew into Voldemort's own outstretched hand. And then, before even the slayer could react he waved his wand at the boy, sending him twirling back and colliding with a statue behind him.

Grunting, Harry went down hard, wincing as he felt something crack in his chest as pain flared from what had to be a broken rib. Grimacing, he blinked open bleary eyes and lifted a shaking hand to straighten his glasses, forcing himself to focus on Buffy's concerned green eyes. "Don't worry - all part of the plan," he muttered as she pulled him to his feet, all the while ensuring that her back remained between him and Voldemort.

"What is? Getting your ass kicked?" Buffy muttered, torn between concern and exasperation. "'Cause if so, your plan sucks. And if you hadn't noticed, he has your wand."

"Wouldn't have worked against him, anyway," Harry muttered crossly, wincing as he wrapped an arm protectively around his injured rib cage. "Besides, I haven't been practicing all this time to do battle with my wand."

"Okay, then I'll do my thing, a.k.a. severe ass kicking with a side of distraction, and you do yours," Buffy returned, her eyes flashing as Harry reluctantly nodded his agreement. "Good, now that that's solved," she muttered as she turned to take in the monster that seemed completely unconcerned and partially amused by their quiet and heated conversation. "Now, where were we?" she asked as she began advancing on the dark lord, absently twirling her sword in a wide arc before her.

"You were dying, I believe," Voldemort returned as the girl began circling him.

"No, that wasn't it," Buffy returned with a grim smile as she dropped down into a defensive crouch, her sword raised before her. "I actually think that I was about to, as we Americans used to say, open a can of whoop ass on you," she retorted, about to start forward when Voldemort waved his wand and caused her sword to go spinning from her hands, landing with a splash on the other side of the Chamber. Frowning, she turned her eyes back to the monster who had the nerve to smirk at her. "What, you think I needed a sword to kick your ass?" she asked as she straightened before him. And then, with the full advantage of her slayer speed behind her, Buffy darted forward and leapt high in a spectacular roundhouse kick that connected with Voldemort's face and sent him careening back into the water once more. "Hardly," she added as she quickly dove back in, not even letting him regain his feet before she began landing kicks and punches alike on his frame, battering him with a glee that was probably illegal in most states - a good thing she wasn't stateside.

"That's for Faith," she muttered as the toe of her heel rocked his head back. "And this one's for her watcher," she continued as a right cross split his lip and drew blood. "And oh yeah, that one is for Fred and George Weasley," she grunted as the heel of her foot connected with his middle, the sound of ribs cracking drowned out by his pained and surprised grunt, "'cause from what I've heard, they would have been dang cool. And Harry? Yeah, this is for Harry and his parents!" she added before spinning once more just as he regained his feet, her heel connecting with Voldemort's face, breaking his flat nose and causing blood to cascade down his chin as he stumbled back and fell once more.

Panting a bit from her exertions, Buffy took a minute to regain her breath as she hazarded a brief glance towards Harry, her eyes locking with his as he seemed to be concentrating on something - pulling on his magic and bending it to his will. Which was of course when Voldemort regained his senses long enough to reclaim his wand. The next thing Buffy knew was pain as a chair appeared out of nowhere before lifting in the air and crashing down over her back, the wood splintering as she dropped heavily to the ground. Grunting, Buffy winced as she pulled herself to her feet, her green eyes narrowing and locking on the Dark Lord. "Okay, now I'm mad," she muttered as she took in her black tank and more importantly, the wet stain that marred her tan cords. "Do you know how hard it is to get stains out of these things?" she asked as she rolled her neck, feeling as the pain was already beginning to pass. "And what's up with the chair? Can we say cheap shot?"

Smiling shrewdly, Voldemort shook his head. "Such a proud slayer," he murmured, his voice like smooth velvet and causing goose bumps to form on her skin. For some reason, Buffy _really_ didn't like that smile. "So comfortable in the knowledge that our magic cannot affect you," he continued as he slowly began advancing towards her, one hand wiping at the blood that dripped down his pale chin.

And even as he moved towards her, Buffy found herself unwillingly backing away. The dark power that the guy was putting off was so potent that she felt as though it was choking her and her damn slayer sense. She couldn't get past it, couldn't focus past it, and by the look in his eyes, she knew that wasn't a good thing.

"But what no one seems to have realized is that, while our magic cannot directly affect you... you are as powerless as a muggle against physical objects that are controlled by my magic," he whispered as with a flick of wrist, one of the heavy statues flew from its resting place and slammed into the small slayer, knocking her from her feet as her body skid into the pool of shallow water.

* * *

"_Accio_ Maurauder's Map!" Sirius bellowed as he and Giles raced towards the castle, their breathing ragged. Everything was happening so fast that Sirius struggled to keep up. One minute he was engaged in the battle of his life when his gaze fell on Harry's familiar figure - a figure that faced a tall being draped in black. Instantly, Sirius knew what stood before his godson, and as Voldemort turned his red eyes toward him, he knew that he would never reach Harry in time. He thought then that he had failed him. Failed James. Failed himself. Even as he called to Giles and the men began to race towards their wards, they knew they would be too late - and they were. For in a deceptive blink of the eye Voldemort was gone, and scant seconds later, so were Buffy and Harry.

_Harry_.

Everything was falling apart even as victory seemed to be theirs. With a single heated word Giles had sent Hermione, Ron, and the remaining slayer and the vampire to the others with orders to help where they could. They would see to Buffy and Harry.

_Harry_.

Together, they had taken off towards the castle. They didn't know where the two teens had gone or what had happened, and even though Hermione had stated with conviction that Harry had somehow apparated them both, Sirius couldn't wrap his mind around it. He couldn't wrap his mind around any of this. All he knew was that he had to find his godson before something horrible happened. Before Voldemort happened.

_Harry_.

And then the map was there and in his hands. Pausing long enough to tap his wand against the top of the paper, he hastily forced the old words from his throat. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he gasped, his breathing ragged as lines began to spill across the old parchment, detailing the school and showing all that remained within. As he felt Giles crowd beside him, Sirius' frantic eyes scoured the map until they found three dots, grouped together in a chamber far below the castle. H. Potter, E. Summers... T. Riddle.

"I-I've never seen this chamber before," Giles stuttered, having enough sense to not even bother with his first question of what he was looking at. His answer was more than apparent as his eyes locked upon the small dot that was labeled with his slayer's name. E. Summers. Elizabeth Summers. _Buffy_.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Sirius murmured, his voice catching in his throat as his frantic blue eyes lifted and locked on the school doors. Without another word he broke into a run, his long legs carrying him across the grounds as the watcher fell into step beside him.

"And who's T. Riddle?" Giles asked between gasping breaths of air. But his question was quickly forgotten as someone stepped into their path, blocking their route. For the briefest of moments, Giles lifted his wand and considered cursing the person aside until his brain caught up with the rest of him. "Dumbledore!" he gasped, stilling in time to avoid a painful collision.

"Harry and Buffy are in the Chamber of Secrets with Voldemort," Sirius quickly stated, feeling himself tremble as he gazed trustingly at the headmaster. Everything would be alright now. They had found Dumbledore and the headmaster would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

Albus slowly nodded his head as his shoulders drooped beneath the weight of Sirius' words. "I feared that it would come to this," he murmured, his gaze drifting past them and to the battle that was being waged behind them all.

Eyes narrowing, Sirius felt a cold thread snake through his limbs. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice so low that for a moment he feared that Dumbledore hadn't heard his question - until the headmaster turned those insufferably kind and knowing blue eyes towards him. Eyes that spoke so much more than the headmaster ever did.

"You know of what I speak," he murmured, his eyes so sad that they pitied the tall, proud man before him. "You know of what I speak and still you refuse to see it," he added, shaking his head slowly. "Everyone knew that in the end, it would have to come down to Harry and Lord Voldemort. It has to end between them, one way or the other, just as it was started between them sixteen years ago," he stated softly as Sirius' body tensed, his muscles rippling beneath the fury that was building within the man.

"No," he stated, his voice so controlled and even that it was more startling than had he shouted his denial to the very night. "It _can't!_"

"It will," Dumbledore corrected calmly as his sad eyes turned from Sirius to include Giles in their gaze. "It's their destiny," he murmured, his sadness doubling. "Both Harry and Buffy have been racing against their destiny since birth - a destiny that neither could ever hope to avoid-"

_"Giles, I'm sixteen years old. I don't wanna die!"_

As the men paled, and as Giles fell to his knees, a look of horror twisting his features, Dumbledore continued on. "Both Harry and Buffy accepted their destiny, their fate, long ago," he murmured as his gaze slowly turned away from the watcher to lock on Sirius' furious blue eyes. "Now it is only up to you to accept that as well."

"Well I don't accept it!" Sirius snapped back as Giles regained control of himself, the older man climbing to his feet to stand beside Sirius. "I never will! They're just _children_!" he continued, his voice rising until it reached a fever pitch. "Who could ever expect two children to do this kind of thing?" he demanded, his anger so blinding that it was difficult to even look at him. "What kind of Powers would drive the destiny of two small children to face these odds?" he demanded before furiously turning away and storming towards the castle.

For a moment, Giles watched the man go before sharing a knowing look with Dumbledore. He understood the headmaster's words, but that didn't mean accepting them was any easier. Oh, he had accepted Buffy's fate only a few short weeks ago when he realized that he was powerless to stop it. But that night he had made his slayer a promise. He had vowed to her that when her time came, she wouldn't have to face it alone, and to hell if he would break that promise to her now. With that thought, he nodded once towards the aged wizard before turning and hurrying after Sirius.

Sighing, Dumbledore slowly shook his head and went to follow - only to falter as he realized that he _couldn't_ go forward. Sighing once more, Dumbledore stilled as his eyes followed the men as they hurried up the steps to the castle. One, or maybe even both, had cast a barrier to prevent him from meddling further, but what neither seemed to understand was that they would be too late. They would always be too late as, whether they accepted it or not, this was their destiny, and if there was one thing that Dumbledore had learned with his years, it was that destiny was one thing that could never be ignored.


	30. Chapter 30

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 30  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale one superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain."**  
-Anonymous-

It must have only been seconds, but to Buffy it felt like hours had passed from the moment that she had lost control of the fight. She wasn't even sure how it had happened. One moment she was giving the most enjoyable thrashing of her life, making Voldemort bleed for every sin he had ever dared commit against her friends and family - and some for those she had never met. And then.. well, then it had all quickly gone to Hell and now Buffy found herself on the really wrong end of the ass kicking. Namely hers, getting too black and blue for her liking - along with every other body part that she could name, and some that she couldn't.

Grimacing, Buffy limped out of the way of yet another statue as it careened towards her on an intercept course. Luckily, the statues must have been harder to control for she was able to dodge those a little easier. But it was the hordes of other damn things he kept creating out of thin air that were getting a little tiresome. Like that table, for example. With barely enough time to brace for impact, Buffy felt the heavy oak table collide with her hip, crying out as she was flung, yet again, across the room, landing in a painful pile by the closed door to the chamber. Biting her lip to keep the whimpers at bay, Buffy struggled to her feet, all the while praying that Harry would get his groove on just a bit faster. She imagined that in the real deal, getting his focus was probably a bit harder than in Dumbledore's office, and her numerous grunts, yells, and screams of pain probably weren't helping his case any. Then again, she _hurt_ - maybe even worse than she had ever hurt before. At least she was doing her job as Voldemort was obviously having far too much fun beating her senseless to really pay attention to Harry. He had disarmed the teen and in his mind that probably meant that he was no longer a threat. She just had to hope that Harry would soon be proving him wrong. Really soon.

Buffy didn't even have time to move as a heavy set of silver chains materialized out of the very air before her and then proceeded to wrap around her neck in an unforgiving noose. Gagging, Buffy wrestled with the chains as they tightened and lifted in the air, carrying her with them until she was suspended ten feet off the ground, her feet dangling below her as her hands desperately pulled on the unyielding metal. Her weight was dragging her down and choking her, and even now her vision began to grow hazy. She needed air. She needed air. She needed - to quit panicking. Forcing herself to calm, Buffy lifted her hands away from the chains around her neck and instead reached higher, wrapping her fingers around the lengths above her head. And then, ignoring the pain in her already aching muscles, Buffy pulled with all of the strength that she could muster and arched her body until her legs were wrapped around the chain above her, pulling her up and easing the pain from her neck as she hung upside down.

Gasping, Buffy drank in eager lungfuls of air, her mind already turning towards what in the hell she was supposed to do now, which was when Voldemort answered the question for her. Crying out, Buffy felt the chains suddenly go slack as the floor began to plummet towards her.. or rather, she began to plummet towards it, her head about to be smashed into the unforgiving stone below. Seconds before impact Buffy curled herself into a ball and twisted her body, her right shoulder slamming into the ground and taking the brunt of the beating as the rest of her rolled to the side and emerged relatively unscathed. Relatively, for as she finished the roll and forced herself to her knees, Buffy knew that the arm was useless and the shoulder in a dislocated state, if not shattered completely - a fact that didn't seem quite as important to Voldemort as the Dark Lord's chains split into two, one wrapping around each wrist and jerking them forward so that she fell flat on her stomach.

Grunting as the wind was knocked from her, Buffy felt her world begin to spin as the chains began to drag her down the center aisle and back towards the pool of water that sat before the large figurehead before her. She could only wince as sharp bits of stone scraped against her bare arms and snagged at her clothing, drawing blood and staining her body. Then, as the stone gave way to the shallow pool of water, she felt her body become weighed down as the blood was washed away, the chains finally growing still. Shaking, she slowly pulled her legs beneath her as she tugged ineffectively at the unyielding chains that pinned her wrists beneath the water. But Voldemort wasn't done playing with his new toy yet, and she didn't even have the time to find him in the chamber to point out the entire lack of fun breaking his toy would be, when two more chains wrapped around her ankles and pulled them out from under her.

With enough sense to grab a quick lungful of air before her body was submerged in the shallow pool, Buffy felt her body pull taut in a spread eagle before she was able to arch her neck back far enough to free her head from the water. Gasping raggedly, Buffy fought back the moan that wanted to break free as her aching body protested against the brutal beating that it had endured. But Buffy was stronger than that. Maybe she wouldn't have been so brave a year ago, but after six months of endless torture and cruelty at the hands of the Centre, she was certainly strong enough now. And even more importantly, she was used to pain. She could handle pain and it no longer frightened her as it once had. Instead, she thought past the pain and pushed it to the side, locking it deep within herself and allowing her to regain the fire that burned in her eyes as she glared at the monster that she sensed was drawing near. Who'd of thought that Lyle's favorite game of Beat the Buffy could work so well for her? "Didn't your mother ever tell you to play nice?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady.

"My mother is dead-"

"Well so is mine, you want a cookie?" she asked before common sense could stop her - if she even would have listened to common sense by this point. From the way she was feeling now, probably not. She was just hurting way too badly to try and attempt to curb her sharp tongue. Manners and common sense be damned.

"Yes, your mother is dead," Voldemort murmured as he knelt beside her, his blood dripping from his own wounds and distilling in the water, polluting it. "I've actually learned much about you, Buffy," he stated.

And for reasons unknown to her, the sound of her name rolling off his tongue caused a grimace that had nothing to do with the pain that radiated through her body. From his lips, her name, the same one that she had thrown casually about for the past nineteen years, for the first time sounded vile. Tainted, like the water that soaked her clothing and held her captive.

"I have even read of your exploits from your Watcher's diaries," he whispered as his hand settled lightly on the bared skin of her upper back, just above the dip of her black tank.

Shuddering at the feeling of his cold hand on her skin, Buffy tried to shift away - all to no avail as her chained bindings didn't allow such a luxury of movement.

"I even read about your first death," the Dark Lord continued, his red eyes meeting Buffy's and refusing to allow her to turn away. "Drowning, wasn't it?" he asked as he slid his hand up the wet skin of her neck until it was tangled in her loosened French twist, long fingers interlacing with her wet locks in a grip that was painful. And then, smiling grimly, he used his hold to push Buffy's head down until her head was submerged in the foul water and then held her there.

Frantic, Buffy pulled at her bindings, not caring about the blood that began to turn the water pink from her wounds as she struggled to pull away. But the magical chains were far stronger than even her slayer strength and soon she found even that strength fleeing her as the fight to hold her breath began to lessen. She needed oxygen - air. Just one breath was all she needed, just one breath to feed her starved lungs and to clear her muddled head. So just breathe. Just open your mouth and breathe - but no, she knew she couldn't do that. Some part of her knew that to do so was death... but what was this darkness that was already descending upon her? It seemed that either path would lead to darkness. A darkness that she couldn't fight nor would she be able to climb from. Just... darkness.

The silence was thick and heavy in the room and Harry welcomed it, the silence freeing his mind of thought so that he could focus inward. The screaming, the pain - it had all stopped and he refused to think on what that could possibly mean. He couldn't. He had to concentrate because if he didn't find his focus, he never would and then there would be no escaping the fate that Voldemort began for them all sixteen years ago. He had to do this and save them all.

Exhaling slowly as Dumbledore had taught him, Harry reached deep within himself and found the core of his power. Gently, he began to stir the embers until it was roaring in a bright flame that, could he see it, he knew would have blinded him. Slowly he opened his eyes, never allowing his concentration to falter as his gaze drifted around the chamber, locking on the dark figure of Voldemort standing in the middle of the pool of water before the mouth of the statue. He knew that once before that mouth had opened and released a basilisk that had nearly claimed him, but he quickly pushed that thought away. There wasn't time for old fears - only for the present.

Harry moved away from the shadows and into the center of the large chamber, his footsteps muffled and his movements lost on the Dark Lord. As he drew closer, he vaguely realized that Voldemort was talking out loud - his words a mere whisper - and it was only as Harry stepped closer that he was able to see at last what had been hidden. Who had been hidden. Buffy. Voldemort was taunting a Buffy that was so battered it was painful to look upon. Even beneath a sheen of blood and water, it was easy for his eyes to see the bruised flesh, the swollen joints, the bloody gashes... the pain. And then, as Voldemort trailed his hand upon skin that he had no right to touch and tangled long fingers in hair that was dark and heavy with water, Harry finally found the focus that his magic had been lacking.

As Voldemort forced Buffy's head beneath the murky water and held it there, Harry built the fire that was within him until its heat was almost too much to contain. And then, as Buffy's struggles begin to lessen he finally unleashed a small portion of that energy in a wave that lifted the Dark Lord and slammed him against the large statue before him, catching him completely unawares and freeing Buffy from her bindings as the chains dissolved back into nothing.

Gasping, the small slayer jerked her head from the water and then fell back on her knees as her wide eyes lifted, turning to find Harry standing tall behind her, his eyes asking her a silent question. Coughing, she ran a shaky hand across her lips before pulling her useless arm against her side, nodding once to show that she would live before Harry allowed his eyes to return to Voldemort. "I'm no longer the boy that you threatened and bled," he whispered, his magic causing the air to crackle around him as his hardened green eyes met Voldemort's red.

"And so you're not," Voldemort concurred as he slowly regained his footing. "And it seems that the old fool taught you well," he added, a small sneer lifting his lips. "But not well enough," he added as he lifted his wand. "_Avada Ked-_" he began, the rest of his curse broken as Harry unleashed another wave of energy that lifted and brutally slammed the Dark Lord against the rock once more. This time, however, Voldemort was ready and while Harry took a second to recuperate from the magical depletion Voldemort was already muttering a simple curse that hit the boy and sent him tumbling back and to the stone floor, effectively breaking the boy's concentration.

As the boy lay gasping on the ground, Voldemort was already casting a second spell as he turned towards the slayer who was rushing him as fast as her battered body would allow - but not fast enough. As she launched a stunning kick towards him his spell was already in the works as a single chain was conjured to replace the ones that the boy had wiped out, the heavy metal links pinning her arms to her side and wrapping tight. Grunting, the girl stumbled back and stared down at the chains in confusion, humorously trying to wrestle herself free. Smiling grimly, Voldemort narrowed his eyes and, following his bidding, the chains began to tighten, answering the girl's unasked question.

As pain flared within her body, Buffy was unable to fight the scream that tore from her lips as her legs buckled beneath her weight. The chains were tightening, bit by bit, and were crushing her arms against her side - encircling her waist and _crushing_ her. It was _agony_ and Buffy found herself on the verge of blacking out as she fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she heard bones crack and shift, desperately trying to adjust to the pressure. Yet even as the pain began to blind her, Buffy still lifted her eyes and watched as Harry frantically tried to come towards her, his steps halted as he was thrown back by an invisible force, colliding with a stone statue and landing in a groaning heap on the ground a few feet away.

"But not good enough," Voldemort repeated as he lifted his wand, his red eyes dancing as they glanced from the slayer to the boy that was only barely attempting to reclaim his feet.

At that moment, time slowed to a crawl as Voldemort began the killing curse once more. It was history repeating itself as Buffy found herself helpless, unable to do anything to help her loved one from the death blow that she knew was coming. She was helpless and Harry was going to die. He was right there in front of her and _needing_ her, and she couldn't do anything. She was powerless and that thought was killing her inside. She couldn't watch this again - not again. But she couldn't _not_ watch this. She couldn't just look away and not see the end. Not see his fate fulfilled. Even as her mother's face became superimposed over Harry's, and Lyle's over Voldemort, Buffy knew that if this was Harry's destiny - if everything had led up to this - then she didn't want to go on living. She couldn't keep living in a world that insisted on taking those that she loved from her - brutally taking them right before her eyes. She couldn't. More importantly, she wouldn't.

With that, Buffy felt her resolve strengthen as a wave of images overwhelmed her. How many times had she sat in Dumbledore's office and wasted the afternoon and evenings away in her little corner, always watching as the aged headmaster imparted his wisdom upon Harry, instructing him in the art of wandless magic? _Look deep in yourself. Feel the magic. Feel the magic within you_. And she could. Buffy could feel the magic that was at her most primal core - the magic that made Buffy Summers the slayer. It was a magic that was never meant to be touched - a magic meant only to sustain her and carry her through battle - make her quicker, deadlier, and heal faster from her injuries. It was what made her the slayer but in this moment, that magic was failing her. So instead, Buffy took that magic and changed it to her needs. She changed it to what she needed to survive.

Focusing on that burning energy within her, Buffy turned towards Voldemort and felt it all building, building... and then it was gone. A part of her wrenched itself free and it was agony. It was absolute agony as the magic was twisted and used by her in a way it was never meant for and sent forth in a wave of light that attached itself to Voldemort and propelled him back, pinning his body against the stone mouth that stood behind him. Gritting her teeth, Buffy locked her deadened green eyes on Voldemort's stunned features, red eyes widened with shock and sudden understanding. And even as she felt a stream of deep red blood begin to trickle down her nose, Buffy refused to look away. She had to do this. For Harry. Even though it was burning her up inside. She had to do this for Harry.

Without fully understanding what was going on, Harry nevertheless took advantage of it as he quickly struggled to his feet. Immediately he began drawing upon what remained of his magic, pulling it and fanning it to a flame. He could _feel_ Voldemort's power as the Dark Lord struggled against whatever held him. He could feel the power and as Harry's own power built within him... he understood that it wouldn't be enough. In that moment, Harry realized again what he had realized earlier that night: while he had gained a significant portion of Voldemort's magic the night that his parents sacrificed themselves for him, it was only a portion and could never be greater than the might that was the greatest Dark Lord the world had ever seen. And even now, with all of the training that he had undertaken, Harry intuitively knew that even were he to give all of himself, it would never be enough.

Which was when he felt her.

Turning, Harry found his eyes drifting until they locked on Buffy. The small slayer was on her knees a few feet away, bruised and bloody with heavy chains encircling her waist and slowly crushing the life from her - and yet she continued to fight. Her eyes were locked on Voldemort and slowly, as he let his senses reign free and as he extended himself to that unknown part of her, he could feel what she was doing. He could feel her seizing her magic and using it much as he had before when he had apparated them together within the walls of Hogwarts. She was using her slayer core to hold Voldemort, giving him the time needed to somehow save them all. She was doing it and it was burning her inside - and it was all for naught. But Buffy understood that, too.

Slowly, her eyes turned until they locked and in that instant, Harry felt the slayer open herself to him even as a part of her maintained her tenuous hold on the Dark Lord. Without having to speak, he understood this unspoken invitation and even though he thought he understood the consequences, he finally understood what this was all about. What it had always been about. Despite the hopes of the wizarding world in large, he, Harry Potter, wasn't strong enough to destroy the darkness. Dumbledore wasn't strong enough, and while Harry was stronger thanks to the infusion of the Dark Lord's power with his own... it still wasn't enough. But then a slayer had been sent to them - a slayer who had been shattered and reduced to a shell of herself. A slayer who had been torn from her friends and family and forced to endure hell - a slayer whose experiences forced her away from the place that she had vowed never to leave. Fate had pushed her away from the Hellmouth and to the one place where she was unknowingly needed more than ever. They brought her to him. Small circumstances, small twists of fate had shaped their pasts and combined their futures and all for this one moment. For Harry finally understood. The defeat of Voldemort wasn't merely contingent on Harry Potter, but on the Boy Who Lived and the Slayer who would stand beside him. It was their destiny.

With that thought fueling him, Harry resigned himself to his and Buffy's fates and accepted her invitation. Slowly he moved within her, hearing her agonized screams rip from her throat as he dug and scraped at her core, taking everything that he could, all that she had, and mixing it with all that he had within him. Tediously he worked and worked, forcing his mind to merge these two magicks that were so different - merging them into something that was unnatural - powerful and unnatural. Deadly. Together, he took everything that remained of either of them and then faced the Dark Lord once more. It was time to end this. The world depended on them. Their fate was this. It was their destiny.

In one blinding, pulsing wave of magic that burned both him and Buffy to their cores, agonizing screams ripping from them both, a deadly arc of white light burst forward and raced towards Voldemort. And as that light connected with the Dark Lord, everything coalesced into that one moment before everything exploded in an outlash of magic that rocked the very foundation of Hogwarts itself. And then... and then came the silence of oblivion.

* * *

The cavernous tunnel was dark and long, plagued with rocky steps that were synonymous with the promise of twisted ankles and begged of caution. But neither man could afford caution in this juncture as they both raced forward, their steps unnaturally light as they flew over the craggy walk, drawn by some inescapable need to reach their destination. Mere minutes had passed, but it already felt like hours since the wave of power rocked the school, rocks and boulders tearing lose from their homes and pounding around them, beating against their skin as they faltered for only moments - moments in which their eyes locked, green with blue, and similar fears were passed between the two. A horrid knowledge of what awaited them. A knowledge of what _couldn't possibly_ await them.

As the two danced over the fallen rocks the last bend opened before them to reveal a large, circular stone door that was engraved with the still images of serpents: the door to the Chamber of Secrets. "How do we get in?" Giles demanded, his breath leaving him in ragged gasps as he fell against the damp stone, his eyes boring into the man beside him.

"Harry... Harry is a parselmouth. He spoke to the door and it opened for him," Sirius muttered, his steps faltering before this obstacle. For some reason he hadn't thought further than the need to get to his godson, and in his rush he had completely forgotten about this final obstacle that barred their way. As it was, neither of them would have even made it this far had it not been for Moaning Myrtle and her ghostly assistance in opening the first portal. Her desire to help the boy that she had fancied for years worked for them then, but nothing they said could convince the spirit to journey with them further. She knew what lay below the school and what rested in these damp caverns. She could sense the evil that resided there.

"Well, since neither of us are parselmouths, that does pose a problem, doesn't it?" the watcher retorted, his anger not directed at the ex-prisoner but finding release in him nonetheless. He quickly shook his head as visions of his slayer danced in his mind's eye. The cavern around them was quiet - far too quiet and Giles imagined that he should have been able to hear the sounds of battle coming from beyond this gate. He should have been able to hear _something_. The fact that he didn't... it only caused the fear in him to grow as he thought once more that... "We're too late."

"We _can't_ be!" Sirius growled, surprising them both as Giles hadn't realized that he had spoken aloud.

Sighing, Giles allowed the other man's anger to fuel him as he quickly lifted his wand and motioned for Sirius to do the same. "The reductor curse, together on the count of three," he stated, hoping that their combined strength would somehow be enough to blast this particular solid object free of their path. "One. Two. Three," he murmured as in tandem they lifted their wands and performed the complex twirls and twists. "_Reducto!_" they ordered, their desperation carrying through and driving their magic to explode out in a blast that rocked the tunnel around them and blew the door from its hinges.

Even as the rocks tumbled free and the dust cascaded down, Sirius and Giles were already hurrying forward, both lifting their wands and casting the _lumos_ charm as they looked blankly into the darkness that opened before them. Sirius wanted to call out for his godson, but the eerie hush that filled the large chamber stilled his words. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his eyes darting back and forth to the stone snake statues that lined their path, a path that continued forward until it ended in a shallow pool of water that sat before a massive carving of a man's face. Salazar Slytherin. Grimacing, Sirius' gaze traced over the statue's hardened features until he glimpsed the smoking robes that lay submerged in the shallow water. Breath catching in his throat, he quickly hurried forward, his heavy robes slowing him in the shallow water as he tentatively reached down and gripped at the heavy material, feeling Giles gathered beside him as together they turned the figure - and recoiled at the charred flesh that stared back at them.

"Voldemort," he murmured, knowing instantly that this time, there would be no resurrection for the Dark Lord. He was dead. Grimacing, he slowly stepped back and turned, lifting his wand higher as he stumbled to dry land, his gaze earnestly searching out his godson - and freezing as his eyes locked on the two forms that lay forgotten on the ground a few feet away. "Harry," he whispered, his breath leaving his locked throat in a whoosh of air as he staggered across the smooth stone floor and fell to his godson's side, his eyes locking on the pair of glasses that lay smashed a few feet away. "Harry?" he whispered again, feeling the tears burn his eyes as he gently gripped his godson's shoulder and pulled, turning the boy over and freezing as his eyes trailed over his bruised, still face.

Alerted by Sirius' frantic call, it took only seconds longer for Giles to reach his slayer's unmoving form as he fell into a similar crouch by her side. "Oh God, Buffy," he whispered, his voice wavering as he gently lifted her small shoulders and cradled her in his arms, the tears trailing down his face. Gasping pained breaths, he lifted a shaking hand and gently touched the blood that was already drying on her face before allowing it to slip down, lightly fingering the bruised and bloody marks that encircled her pale throat, wrists, and then down to the scrapes on her arms - which was when the pained gasp rasped from her bloody lips. Startled, Giles froze in his questioning ministrations as his green eyes locked on Buffy's still face.

When he had entered the chamber and everything had been so silent... with the huge magical blast that had rocked the school... and seeing her so still and silent, Giles had just assumed that she was... "Buffy?" he asked, barely able to believe that it was true and then dimly realizing that if he didn't get help for her soon, it wouldn't be true for much longer.

Likewise, Sirius was so wrapped in his own grief that he didn't realize that he was mourning his loss so prematurely until Harry's pained groan broke him from his near-hysteria. "Harry?" he asked, relief and panic flooding his voice at once as he practically attacked his godson as rough hands gripped Harry's shoulders and pulled at the teen's limp body, causing him to moan his pain once more. "Hang on, Harry," Sirius ordered, his words falling into a desperate whisper as he reached down and lifted his godson into his arms with a strength born of desperation. Staggering to his feet, he turned to see Giles standing before him, his slayer bruised and bloody in his own arms.

As one their eyes met and both passed along a similar, heartfelt and desperate message in one glance: they were alive - for now. Turning, they held their wards tighter against their chests before they fled down the corridor, frantically retracing their earlier steps. Both had only one thing on their mind, and in one hollered plea they let that need known. "_POPPY!_"


	31. Chapter 31

**Racing With Destiny: Chapter 31  
by Lisette**

**Legalese:** See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

* * *

**"What we do does not define who we are. What defines us is how we rise after falling."**  
-Maid in Manhattan-

For Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the great battle that was being forged outside was whittled down to an enlargened infirmary with far too many patients and not nearly enough people to help her see to their needs. She supposed that she should have been grateful for Headmaster Dumbledore's foresight to grant her the assistance of the youngest of the students that still walked the halls of Hogwarts, and even though they heeded to her strict word, it still wasn't nearly enough. She had no idea how the battle fared, and in her haste, she found little time to care. All that mattered was the steady influx of wounded witches and wizards, suffering from nasty curses and hexes to the after-effects of the cruel Cruciatus Curse. From sanguine potion to pepper-up to some of the more exotic potions that Professor Snape had procured for her, Poppy saw each patient as they came in and then directed the student who aided her as to which potion should be administered in which order. It was frantic, worrying, but it was all something that she could handle. She could do this. She could-

"_POPPY!_"

Startled, the mediwitch nearly dropped her wand in surprise at her bellowed name as she turned away from the young student that assisted her, her eyes snapping to the doors to the Great Hall. "What-" she began, her angry tirade dying as Sirius Black and Rupert Giles raced into the room, two unmoving forms carried in their arms. "Here," she ordered, directing the men towards two empty cots as her eyes took in the figures that they held. How terribly unsurprising. Sighing, she kneaded her lip as her gaze rested upon two of the infirmary's most frequent visitors: one Mister Harry Potter and one Miss Buffy Summers. Shaking her head curtly, she watched as each of the men moved to opposing sides of their wards' beds, facing each other and allowing her to move in the space between them. Frowning, a critical eye took in both unmoving forms - forms that were so pale and drawn, and in the slayer's case, bloody and broken, that they seemed to have no life in them at all.

"Harry!"  
"Buffy!"

Torn from her musings, Madam Pomfrey watched as others began filtering in the room - others that didn't appear to be injured. Realizing that the battle must be over, she watched as young Granger and Weasley broke from the crowd and raced for their friend's bed even as the dark-haired muggle and the red-haired Wiccan hurried to the slayer's side - all four teens stopped by Remus Lupin and the dark-haired muggle man, a former watcher, if she remembered correctly. Nodding her thanks at the two men, she once more directed her eyes back to her patients as both shifted, twin moans of pain issuing from both and spurring her to action.

Without another thought to the injured slayer, the aging mediwitch hurried to the Potter boy's side. She had learned the hard way that there would be nothing that she could do for the small slayer and idly wondered why the Watcher had even brought her there for attention. He would have been better to find a way to bring her to a muggle hospital somewhere. But then even those thoughts were turned aside as she lifted her wand and waved it over the air above Harry Potter, muttering a revealing spell beneath her breath as she quickly took stock of his injuries. Not good. Frowning at what she found, she turned back to the student that had been hovering behind her, the poor girl's eyes locked on Harry's unmoving form. Not that she could blame the girl for already a part of her was wondering what on earth could have happened to do this to the boy - not a Death Eater, that was for sure.

"Send for Professor Snape," she ordered, knowing instinctually that the kind of potions that she needed were potions that the potions master would need to brew from scratch - and quickly. Even now she could see the boy was slipping. The student, having been given a task she could fulfill, was already scampering away as Poppy hurried to a nearby table and began collecting the various potions herself, all the while muttering beneath her breath as she hurried back to the boy's side. "Sirius, give him this potion followed by this," she ordered, listing off her instructions as she handed the man the bottles. Then, satisfied that she had done all that she could for the moment, she was about to turn away and return to her other patients when the watcher seemed to finally understand her intentions.

"Damnit Poppy! Won't you even see to her?" Giles roared, his voice breaking as both Willow and Xander drew away at his harsh words. He didn't need to look behind him to see the tears in Willow's eyes or the naked fear in Xander's. Buffy's state was too obvious for them both to see. He didn't think that he had ever seen his slayer worse, and he knew in his heart that there wasn't time to bring her anywhere else. If Buffy couldn't find aid here, she would find it nowhere... for in the end, he didn't think that the muggles would be able to save her.

For a moment, with her patience already stretched by the long night that she had endured, Poppy almost retorted in furious kind, wanting nothing more than to demand what the point was while pointing out that there were others in the room that she still _could_ help. But common sense reigned as she took a good, pitiable look at the man and recognized his fear for what it was. He loved this girl and he understood what she knew just by looking at her. This man could do nothing for her and Poppy knew from experience that she would be powerless to do aught else. Nonetheless, she forced a silent nod as she moved to the girl's bedside, sighing audibly as she lifted her wand and performed the usual revealing spell over the girl - and then faltered at what she found.

Stumbling back a few paces, Madam Pomfrey lifted wide eyes to the man before her as she quickly returned to the bedside, lifting her wand and doing it again, and again - always with the same result. Confused, she quickly returned to the potions table, gathering numerous bottles against her chest and hurrying back to the bed. "Quickly, give her these in the same order to which I give them to you," she stated, her voice clipped as her eyes remained fixed on the girl's pale face.

Confused, Willow watched all of this through watery green eyes. "But I thought that the magic potion stuff didn't work on Buffy except on the Hellmouth," she whispered, feeling Xander's arm fall reassuringly over her shoulders as she clung to her best friend's side.

"What does this mean?" Hermione asked, slowly drawing towards the slayer's bed as she voiced the question that was on everyone's mind.

"Better not mean that the Hellmouth has changed locations," Xander grumbled, his eyes dark with worry.

But whatever response anyone was bound to give was forgotten as Dumbledore joined their small circle, sad blue eyes lighting first on Harry's still form before moving to the small, blonde slayer. With a heavy heart, he closed his blue eyes and shook his head, white hair trailing over his shoulders. "The reason," he began, his soft voice even softer, "that our magical aid has never worked on Buffy was because her internal slayer core - her own breed of magic, so different than our own... it interfered. But now... now there is nothing to interfere with."

* * *

"-and the magic just kind of was there and we just took it and shaped it and channeled it through us and if you could only feel the kind of magic back in Sunnydale then you could just see that this stuff was pure and normal and good and it just kind of let us take it and push it and we thought of happy things like flowers and kittens and Oz and werewolf puppies and it all just kind of went out in one big rush of light and it was like light and it was light and it was beautiful and it was powerful and-"

Sighing softly, Buffy listened to Willow's ramblings with far less attention then her friend warranted, her mind wandering far and wide. It had been ten days since the battle at Hogwarts that had changed the course of the wizarding world in the best way possible. Word of Voldemort and his followers' defeat had spread like wildfire and soon wizards and witches had come by the hundreds to give their own personal thanks to the mere handful that had openly taken up the mantle and fought to free them all. The Ministry was in chaos as Voldemort's moles were unearthed and those under the Imperius Curse looked back at months, and in some cases, years of service to the Dark Lord with shock and shame. And of course in such absences those good and steadfastly loyal to Dumbledore were quietly stepping in to take their places and to help ease the transition from such dark times into a new hope for their world. Already word was spreading of the reopening of Hogwarts in a few days time where a summer session would take place for those many students who had been pulled from the school. They had close to eight months of missed lessons to make up in a matter of three months before the regular session would open again in September. Muggle-born witches and wizards were slowly receiving the call to return from their foreign hideaways and peace was returning to their world - and one Buffy Summers and one Harry Potter continued to remain sequestered in the infirmary at Hogwarts, confined to bed and completely missing out on the almost continuous party that the rest of the wizarding world seemed to be busily partaking in. At least they weren't alone.

"-and I told Tara that we just had to concentrate and it was so strong that it was almost intoxicating like a drug but not because I really wouldn't know what a drug was like because I've never done drugs but if I had then I imagine it would have been something like that because it was just so strong and powerful and-"

Smiling, Buffy settled back in her hospital bed as her eyes traced over her friend's tired features. The complex spell that Tara and Willow had performed would have drained them no matter where they had cast it, but when combined with the amount of strong magic that the two girls had channeled... Xander had told her of the deep sleep that the two girls had fallen into, only to awaken several days later. It worried her to know that they had exerted themselves so, but just by looking at her babbling friend beside her, Buffy was assured that there would be no ill effects to any of them... well, at least not to her friends. The same couldn't, of course, be said for others and for the many sacrifices that had been made that fateful night. Some sacrifices far greater than others.

"-I just don't know how I'm going to be able to go back to pulling on the icky polluted stuff that the Hellmouth puts out after experiencing the rush of the magic here because it's just so strong and unbelievable and I felt like I could keep doing it forever and Tara just held my hand and it was like it was there and even though my thoughts were on that it was like I could sense what was happening elsewhere like with Oz and the others and sometimes even you even though it was harder and there was more-"

From home, only Xander, Willow and Giles remained at her side. Angel, Cordelia, and Wesley had only taken their return portkey yesterday, unable to justify leaving their city unprotected for any longer. With a smile, Buffy realized that the goodbye had been hard and so easy at the same time. Cordy had been eager to go, Wesley rather indifferent, but Angel... Buffy realized that a part of her would never be over the immortal vampire, even as another greater part of her knew that they couldn't have ended it any other way.

_"Thank you for doing this," she murmured as Angel parted from the others and bent before her, pressing a cool kiss against her forehead._

_"You know that you only need to ask and I'll always be there to help," he stated, a small smile lifting his lips as he pulled away._

_"I know," Buffy returned, smiling softly at the vampire, knowing that no other words need be spoken. They had said everything that needed to be said that night at the hospital in Sunnydale. He knew her heart just as she knew his._

_Openly gagging, Cordelia made a show of rolling her eyes before glaring at Buffy. "If he goes into one of his brooding trips when we get home, I'm holding you personally responsible," she warned as Angel scowled at her._

_"I don't brood."_

_"Sure you don't," Cordy agreed, rolling her eyes before tapping her foot impatiently against the floor, indicating her readiness to leave._

_"Now, now, Cordy, please play nice," Wesley chided as he had tilted his head towards Buffy in an uncustomary show of respect. "Just take care of yourself - and Giles, as well," he ordered as he rather awkwardly patted her pale hand._

_"I'll do my best," Buffy vowed before the small group disappeared._

It had only been a few hours later when word had come from Sunnydale that the new kid, as Faith liked to refer to the newest slayer, was already finding herself over her head. Within minutes it was decided that Faith, Oz and Tara would return home, and with little fanfare, they, too, had departed. Only those closest to her heart had remained and only those because they wouldn't dream of being anywhere else. And after the scare that she had given them, Buffy felt that she could understand why. After all, Willow and Tara hadn't been the only ones to sleep for far too long after the battle had ended. As the others seemed fond of pointing out, Buffy and Harry's condition had been precarious as the two lingered somewhere between the land of the living and the world of the dead while Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape toiled day and night to hold them to where their loved one's waited. Their diligence had paid off for only a few days before, both had awoken within minutes of one another, and much to the relief of everyone - a relief that seemed short-lived, now.

"-and I kept thinking that it was going to go on forever but when it ended we just picked up some of Xander's stuff and started helping to take out the guys in the black robes and what's with the black robes anyway because they're really not cool and way out of-"

"Willow, good Lord, will you please cease with your incessant babblings?"

Sufficiently startled, Willow paused long enough for Xander to get in his first word in what felt like years. "G-Man, your timing couldn't have been better!" the teen greeted as he lifted his head from where it had dropped onto Buffy's bed. Sighing, he ignored his best friend's indignant glare from her seat in the chair beside him and turned towards the door - and froze as not only Giles, but a whole parade of adults entered the infirmary and moved to stand before the only two occupied beds in the ward.

"Well this can't be good," Harry muttered, voicing Buffy's thoughts as his green eyes swept over the serious countenances of Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Remus, Sirius and Giles - the last two of which looked pale and more than a little unhappy at being there. Unsure why, Harry found himself straightening in his bed as his green eyes darted to where Ron and Hermione sat beside him before skipping over to Buffy and her friends. He had seen very little of the adults, outside of Sirius, Remus, and Giles, since he had awoken, and certainly not all of them gathered together. Such a thing only caused his heart to begin to hammer, even more so when Madam Pomfrey appeared to join their small group.

Noting the mediwitch's presence, Buffy felt a frown pull at her lips. Her earlier amusement at listening to Willow prattle, and the incredulous looks from her Hogwarts friends that such a long discourse could be done in the same breath of air, quickly disappeared under a wave of cold. Then again, she and Harry had been expecting something like this from the moment that they had awoken. How could they not after what had happened? After what they had experienced? "So... what's up, doc?" she asked, finally breaking the oppressive silence that had fallen over the room as her eyes skipped over the faces of the adults.

"W-we bring news, both good and bad," Giles stammered, his voice failing him as he quickly whipped off his glasses and began polishing them on the hem of his shirt. Never a good sign - something that even the Hogwarts trio had come to realize over the past three months. "W-we have been able to confirm that Voldemort is indeed dead-"

"Well I could have told you that," Harry muttered, interrupting the watcher's explanation and earning himself a glare from the other adults and a snicker from his friends.

"And I'm going to hazard a guess that that's the good news," Buffy added as her watcher struggled with what to say next. "So what's the bad, then?" she asked, pointedly turning her eyes away from the others until they settled on the frowning face of one Madam Pomfrey. From the way that the witch kept looking at her and Harry ever since they awoke, Buffy knew that her answers could come from this woman - at least, a part of the answer.

"I'm not quite sure how," Poppy stated, accepting the role that she had been handed as her eyes glanced down to the hands she had clasped before her, "but all of my tests indicate that all of your magic, the both of you, has somehow been spent."

Buffy slowly closed her eyes, her head falling back against her pillow. Okay, so far the mediwitch wasn't telling her anything she didn't know. It was impossible for the slayer _not_ to feel that truth with every breath she took. She felt different. She felt odd. And it only took one look at Harry's face to know that he felt the same. "So... when's it coming back? 'Cause our batteries are rechargeable, right?" she asked, green eyes blinking open to lock on the mediwitch - eyes that slowly slid along the line until they fell upon Dumbledore's grim countenance.

"It will most likely never be coming back," the headmaster replied, his words falling with a finality that rocked the room into silence.

As Buffy felt the tears burn at her eyes, she felt the headmaster's words echo in her mind. _Never coming back_. She now understood the saddened expressions on the faces of the adults, for they knew this, had discussed it.. and apparently only felt the need to disclose this information to her and Harry now. She watched as Sirius and Remus parted from the others and gathered around Harry's bed, crowding close to the teen as tears ran openly down Hermione's cheek. Likewise, she could feel Giles draw close as Willow settled on a corner of the bed beside her. She even thought she felt the girl's long fingers trail through her hair as Buffy sat, her green eyes seeing nothing as she tried to absorb the headmaster's grim proclamation. _Never coming back_. It took Harry's quiet words to finally break her from her stupor.

"That's... that's why I can't do any magic," Harry whispered, dull green eyes lifting to look into his godfather's pained features. "There's nothing left because... because I'm a muggle now," he murmured, not quite able to believe what he was hearing as his senses strained, searching desperately for a hint of the great power he had felt within himself only days before. He had touched that power, fueled it, used it... and drained it.

"And that's why all the potion stuff is working on me now," Buffy added, her voice hollow as she lifted her eyes to her watcher. "I used up everything that makes me the slayer... I... I'm not the slayer anymore, am I?" she asked, her voice wavering as Giles helplessly shook his head.

"You both had to give everything that you had in order to defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore stated, his eyes kind and so sad. "The wizarding world owes you both more than they can ever pay for your sacrifice.

_Sacrifice._

Breath hitching in her chest, Buffy slowly shook her head as she felt her tears burn at her eyes. She felt mute. She felt dumb. She felt like the world was spinning around her and she didn't quite know what to make of it. She was aware of Xander settling on the bed opposite of Willow and beside Giles, the teen's hand finding her own and squeezing it gently as Giles began to whisper soft words into her ears. But she couldn't hear him. She couldn't hear any of them. She couldn't think past that single word. _Sacrifice_.

And unfortunately, Harry wasn't doing much better as his mind spun around him, totally out of control and losing him in its vicious tilt. _Sacrifice? A sacrifice? Is THAT what they were calling it?_ Confused, he lifted bleary green eyes and tried to focus on Sirius, on Remus, on _any_ of them. He could hear Hermione crying somewhere beside him, and he was vaguely aware of Ron's hand gripping his shoulder so tightly that he thought it may be bruising him. He thought that he heard Remus' reassurances and felt Sirius' strong, familiar presence - but at this point, he couldn't be sure of anything. _Sacrifice?_

"I know that we deliver grave news for you both," Dumbledore murmured, his sad eyes watching as two sets of pain-filled eyes lifted to meet with his own. "And for now, I think it best that we should leave you both to work through what this means," he added, his tone indicating that he wasn't merely suggesting for the others to clear out, but he was ordering them to. And from the identical glares that were directed at him from Buffy and Harry's friends and family, the headmaster knew that his words weren't likely to be heeded. Then again, one glare was all it took to convince them all that as headmaster of this school, if they didn't leave the infirmary of their own power, he would remove them himself.

"I'll be right outside," Sirius sighed, recognizing the headmaster's look all to well as he gently patted Harry's shoulder, feeling totally and completely inept in the face of his godson's haunted expression. Sadly, he noted that his words seemed to barely register with the teen as he received only the smallest of nods in return. "Right outside," he repeated as he met with Giles before the door, hearing similar words escaping from the watcher's mouth. And then, with twin glares that were directed at the headmaster, they and the rest of the room's occupants departed and left the two patients in silence.

As the tears slowly trickled down Buffy's pale cheeks, she felt the numbness begin to dissolve under a fierce emptiness that clawed at her soul. Soon, her body began to tremble and Buffy felt the beginnings of an emotion unlike anything she had ever experienced begin to overtake her. And as some distant part of her mind noted that she was experiencing the beginnings of a panic attack, a larger part of her was already desperately fighting it as she angrily threw back the covers and slipped from her bed for the first time since the battle. On wobbly, weakened legs she stumbled the small distance to Harry's bed before collapsing in an ungraceful heap beside him. Then, without a word she quickly curled up beside him, feeling his arms wrap around her as she clung to him with all of the strength that she could muster, small sobs wracking her shoulders as together they cried for their loss.

With time, Buffy's sobs eventually began to lessen until the small hiccups that always followed such a crying-jag were the only things to shake her small form. With the release of her flood of tears came a small measure of calm in the sea of her disjointed emotions. Buffy had forgotten what it was to cry - the emotional release that it had provided. If only she had allowed herself to do so when things had been so bad before... but never this kind of bad.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, his words serving the dual purpose of reminding her of his presence and pulling her from her own muddled thoughts. "This is all my fault," he added as she slowly lifted her blonde head and readjusted herself until her cheek was resting on his chest.

Sighing, Buffy didn't even need to ask what he was apologizing for. Even though they had really only met a few months before, she already knew him far too well to have to question his words. Were their positions reversed, she knew the words would have been coming from her instead. "No," she whispered, her arms tightening around his waist as her head tilted back, her red-rimmed eyes locking with his haunted green, "it was destiny." Sighing, Buffy slowly arched up and planted a small kiss against his lips before pulling away. "I knew what you were doing and I could have stopped you if I had wanted," she continued, her mind drifting back and focusing on the pain that had literally torn them both apart. "I let you in because it had to be done," she whispered before the irony of the situation fully hit her, pulling a very un-Buffy-like sound from her lips.

"Did you just snort?" Harry asked, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his tired eyes looked down at her.

"I was just thinking that it was funny," she explained, ignoring his question as her eyes turned away. "For so long after I was called I wanted nothing more than to have it all go away," she murmured, her words quiet. "I just wanted to be normal again," she added before a sad smile pulled at her lips. "But now I would give anything to have it back."

Pulling Buffy closer, Harry slowly closed his eyes and rested his chin on the crown of her head, her soft blonde locks tickling his skin. "I never had that problem," he admitted with a soft sigh, his breath fanning against her hair. "The day that I found out that I was a wizard was the best day of my life," he added as his eyes drifted open. "My aunt and uncle, and especially my cousin Dudley, had always hated me and even at school I never felt like I belonged. But when I came here... everything suddenly made sense and it was like I had finally found my way home after being lost for a long, long time. And now... what do we do now?" he whispered, voicing the question that was on both their minds.

"Harry, I tried to be Buffy for so long, but that wasn't what the world needed. They needed the Slayer and so I _became_ the slayer," she murmured, tears beginning to leak from her tightly closed eyes once more. "Now I don't remember how to be anyone else. If I'm not the slayer, who am I?"

But Harry didn't have an answer for her... he didn't even have answers for himself. Hogwarts was the only home that Harry had ever known - certainly more than the Dursley's. And while he had known for quite a while that eventually he would have to leave the school and make a place for himself somewhere else in the wizarding world, that had been when he was a wizard... but he was a muggle now. Muggles didn't belong in the wizarding world and that meant that _he_ didn't belong. He wouldn't even be able to get into Diagon Alley from muggle London as he was. He had spent the past seven years training to be a wizard and now... and now he had nothing and no longer belonged in the only place he had ever felt like he _had_ belonged. Both he and Buffy had their identities stripped from them in a matter of minutes and now both were adrift... lost.

Who were they?

Where would they go?

And most importantly of all. Who would help to see them through this? Harry knew the answer to that just as well as Buffy. The answer was lying in his arms, cradled against him. Somehow, they would get each other through this. Neither of them knew how to quit or stop... neither one of them knew how to give in and die. Together they would _have_ to find the answers to their questions. There was simply no other option.

* * *

"You're sure about this?"

With a small, confident smile Buffy's eyes moved around the bustling airport before finally settling on Xander's worried face. "We're sure," she murmured, responding for both her _and_ Harry as she gently squeezed his hand.

"We both need some time to work this out," Harry added as his eyes moved from Ron, to Hermione and Remus, before finally settling on his godfather's saddened features. Smiling softly, he gently released Buffy's hands and stepped over the backpacks that were lying at their feet until he was standing before his family. "We need to find out what this all means," he continued, trying his best to make them understand.

"And it's not like we're saying goodbye forever, or anything," Buffy quickly added as she wiped at Willow's tears, and then laughed as her friend pulled her into a tight embrace. "I promise to come visit, it's just that... there's nothing binding me to the Hellmouth anymore," she whispered, trying to comfort her as Xander wrapped his arms around them both, squeezing them so hard - like he always used to - that it hurt.

"And I very well can't stay in the wizarding world now," Harry injected as Hermione's tears intensified, even as Ron seemed resigned to his friend's decision. "I don't belong there anymore," he whispered, smiling despite the pain in his heart as Hermione fell into his arms, her tears quickly soaking his shirt as Ron threw aside all pretenses, his long arms encircling them both.

Both teens remained in such similar embraces with their two best friends before both finally, and reluctantly pulled away as their flight was called. "Where will you go?" Remus asked as both teens turned to the adults, ignoring Heathrow's bustle around them.

"New Zealand, to start," Harry said, shrugging slightly as his eyes drifted from his 'uncle' to his godfather - trying his best to see past the stark pain in his blue eyes. "From there... who knows? I think we're going to make this up as we go."

"Harry's parents and my mom left us quite a bit of money," Buffy added as Giles' eyes never quite left her own. "We don't really have any plans besides going," she explained with a small smile at Harry. "We're going to see the world and decide what the future holds - together."

"If we can't be the Boy Who Lived or the Slayer anymore," Harry added, taking up the mantle of explanation, "then it's time to figure out what it means to be Harry and Buffy again."

Their words sounded rehearsed to her own ears, but it couldn't be helped. Their words and explanations _were_ rehearsed as this had been a decision that was long in the making. Despite the magical aid of different potions and spells, their recovery had been slow and with the added news that both were powerless and would remain that way... well, it certainly hadn't sped up the process any. And despite the love that their friends and guardians had smothered them with, the harsh facts of their situation couldn't be ignored. Harry was no longer a wizard and Buffy was no longer the Slayer.

In Harry's case, the wizarding world wasn't kind to muggles or squibs, and seeing as how the Dursleys were dead and Harry had graduated Hogwarts, the only two places he had ever called home were lost to him. And while it was true that Sirius had insisted that Harry come to live with him (as soon as he found a place to live himself), it would still be in a world that he no longer belonged to. With the end of the battle everyone that Harry knew and loved were inevitably scattering. Remus was once more teaching DADA at the newly reopened school and Sirius had talked about rejoining the Auror ranks for the newly reformed Ministry of Magic. In addition, Hermione and Ron were about to start their lives... which left Harry unavoidably adrift.

Unfortunately, Buffy's case wasn't much different. As the slayer she had been bound to fight the bad stuff on the Hellmouth in Sunnydale, but now... now she was free to go where she pleased - a thought that was as frightening as it was exciting. Like Harry, she didn't really have a home to return to. Mr. Lyle had seen to destroying the only home she had ever known in Sunnydale over a year ago, and with her dad out of the picture and effectively out of her life, it wasn't as though she was bound to wherever he now lived. While she could still return to the Hellmouth with her friends, it wasn't as though they didn't already have their own lives to see to. Willow was still in school and Xander was still doing whatever it is that a Xander did. And without a Slayer, Giles was finally free to follow his own pursuits as well, following them wherever he desired. Buffy had nothing holding her in Sunnydale any longer, and nothing tying her anywhere else as well. She was as adrift in a world that was suddenly so large, just as much as Harry.

"It's been so long since we've just been that, just Harry and Buffy... we need to find ourselves again," Buffy whispered, knowing how much this was hurting her friends, but hoping that they loved her enough to see why she needed to do this. Why _they_ needed to do this. Together.

And they did understand, some better than others. For Xander, Willow and Giles, it was easier because Buffy had been lost before. She had been lost when she had sent Angel to Hell and the slayer had needed to run then. They hadn't understood that and because of that, they had lost her - even if only for a short while. After everything that had happened with the Centre, Buffy had lost herself again, and so that time they had let her go... and by letting her go, they had allowed her to find herself at Hogwarts. Now.. now they would let her go and trust that, like always, Buffy would find herself and return to them. For the others, though, it was that much harder.

Ron and Hermione had barely been separated from Harry's side in the past seven years and to be forced to go in different directions now... it wasn't anything that either had really anticipated. Not fully. And even though Remus and Sirius knew that Harry was getting older and would some day go on his own, neither had been expecting for that time to come so soon. Yet it took only one look into Harry's eyes, and just one look at how he looked at Buffy, for them to understand that Harry, too, would eventually be coming back to them. It wasn't goodbye forever. Just for a little while.

As the last call for the teens' flight was announced, hugs were exchanged all around. No more words needed to be said for everything had already been spoken. There were no loose ends - only hopes for the future and what it would bring. With final waves, both Buffy and Harry disappeared down the tarmac and left the seven people that loved the two more than anything standing alone in a place filled with so many.

"I hope that they'll be okay," Willow whispered as Xander draped an arm around her shoulder.

Sighing, Ron pulled Hermione close to his side, her muffled sobs shaking her shoulders as he stared hard at the door that had swallowed his best friend. Then, with a smile that transformed his face, he shrugged his broad shoulders before grinning at the others. "With Harry to keep Buffy out of trouble, I'm sure that they'll be smashing!"

"Smashing?" Xander asked, arching a brow at the teen as they began to lead the way to the exit, the girls falling into step beside them as the adults brought up the rear. "No, no, no - you mean cool. They're going to be cool," he explained as he rolled his eyes at the redhead. "And what do you mean, with Harry to keep Buffy out of trouble? I think that you're forgetting that he's in the company of a slayer: the savior of our world at least six times over!"

"Cool?" Ron asked, a frown pulling at his lips. "No, actually I think they'll most likely be quite warm. Isn't New Zealand supposed to have a more temperate climate than England? And you mean _former_ slayer," he corrected with a knowing smile. "Now Harry, on the other hand..."

Ignoring the teens' banter, Remus cast a knowing glance at the men that stood on either side of him. Both wore matching anguished expressions and he found himself shaking his head ruefully at them both. After all, Harry wasn't Sirius' son and Buffy wasn't Giles' daughter, but both acted as though they had just lost their only child. Empty-nest syndrome, he was quite sure. Shaking his head, he quickly dropped an arm over both of their shoulders. "Somehow, my friends, I have a feeling that they both will be just fine."

* * *

A few months later...

Sighing contentedly, the sound of the nearby surf lulled Buffy into a state that was somewhere between waking and dreams, the hot sun beating down on her skin and making her want to purr like a kitten. Smiling, she rolled over on the soft blanket that was spread over the crystalline sand, hazel eyes dancing over to the boy that sat beside her, a look of firm concentration on his face. Curious, she pushed herself up until she was leaning on her elbow, pushing a golden wave of hair from her face as she looked at the pineapple that sat before him. A pineapple that lurched before it slowly lifted into the air and hovered a few inches above their blanket. "You're getting better," she murmured, breaking his concentration and sending the hard fruit thudding back to the blanket before him.

"I am," Harry agreed, adjusting his glasses as he smiled warmly at the girl that lay before him. She looked beautiful on their little deserted tropical beach, her skin bronzed by the sun's warmth and her smile serene. He didn't think that he had ever seen her look so relaxed or so... unburdened. Before, Buffy had always carried a weight on her shoulders, but now... "How do you feel?" he asked as he slowly stretched out, muscles rippling on his back as he moved beside her, propping his elbow so that they were lying side by side, faces nearly touching.

"Stronger, faster," Buffy murmured, a small smile playing at her lips as she gently lifted her free hand to trail it lightly over his face, dropping feather light caresses on his high cheeks and smooth brow. "Not as strong as before, but I'm getting there, day by day," she added before a playful frown pulled at her lips. "Although this time, no touchy-feely-gropey with my inner core," she stated, trying to look stern and failing miserably. "Last time I felt like we were trying to fry my synapses again, and I just _know_ that Jarod would kick my butt if I did that again."

Attempting to school his features into one of solemn acceptance, Harry slowly nodded his head. "I promise. No more 'touchy-feely-gropey' with your inner slayer core... unless there's a dark, evil wizard that needs to be conquered," he amended as his hand easily caught hers before she could smack him for his words. Smiling, he gently pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against her skin. She tasted of salt. Green eyes meeting, Harry slowly pulled her hand away and allowed his smile to slip. "Should we go back?" he asked, knowing that the question needed to be asked. "The others miss us and I'm sure that someone somewhere could use our-"

"Not yet," Buffy broke in, silencing him with a few slender fingers pressed against his lips. "It's been my experience that the apocalypses tend to come on a yearly rotation, and since we've already fulfilled this year's quotient, we should be good to go for at least another six months," she said, her face so serious before a small smile lifted her lips. "Besides... let's just be Buffy and Harry for a little bit longer," she added as she closed the distance between them, sealing her softly spoken words with a kiss.

**The End**


End file.
